


How are We Still Together?

by samwise_baggins, Steve-Bucky-Stucky (Chemical30)



Series: Still Into You [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Attempted Murder, Cancer, Child Neglect, F/M, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Abuse, Peer Pressure, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seizures, Stalking, Teen Pregnancy, Violence, heart condition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-01-06 15:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 129,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12213744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chemical30/pseuds/Steve-Bucky-Stucky
Summary: Married some years, Steve and Bucky are dealing with a sixteen year old rebellious Ava, Kevin just transferring to public school, a new addition to the family, and an art customer who doesn't like to take no for an answer. And Brock's abuse still haunts this family.





	1. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Past Abuse, Anxiety, Post Traumatic Response, Seizures, Apparent Adult negligence, A parent finishes his family’s leftovers**

_JUNE_

The ringing of a phone brought Bucky out of whatever dream he'd been having. Blinking awake, confused over who would be calling at such an hour, the brunet turned on his side and reached blindly for his ringing phone; the room was still in complete darkness. The noise stopped, telling Bucky that he had missed the call. However, almost immediately the device began making noise again. Grumbling softly under his breath, Bucky finally grabbed his phone and answered with a confused, slightly annoyed, “hello? James Rogers.”

“Mr. Rogers, this is Captain Michael Freeland of the Washington D.C. police. There’s been an accident and the world is about to hear of it. Before that happens, one of my officers will be arriving at your door. Will you be home, please?” The man sounded exhausted and almost as if he was in shock.

Any exhaustion Bucky felt snapped out of him and he shot up straight in bed, “I'm home now. What's happened?” Bucky knew if the police _captain_ was calling him about an accident in the middle of the night, it couldn't be good. He automatically thought of his cousin Elaine and President Bud Hammond, and of their two sons, Doug and TJ.

Bucky was already getting out of bed, shaking Steve's hip to get his husband up as well. The brunet kept the phone pinned between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on a pair of sweats.

“Mr. Rogers, I’m sorry, but there’s been a car accident. And . . .” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted the phone call but Steve got up to answer it, leaving Bucky on the phone. “. . . fatal,” the chief finished.

Bucky felt like his heart stopped and it took a few long moments before he fully comprehended what he was being told. “Wait . . . fatal? Who?” All Bucky could think about was the two little boys they'd taken to Disney World four years before. He stayed on the line as he began walking downstairs, almost as if in a trance.

“As I said, Mr. Rogers, the President and his wife, her mother, and one of their sons were fatally injured and died in a private hospital. The remaining son is being brought to you as the only living relative.” The chief sounded harried and worried, “in fact they should be arriving, the boy, a child services worker, and a police escort, any moment.”

Steve stood at the door, holding someone tall and lean in a close hug, the preteen’s body so slender and frail looking in the larger man’s hug. A cop stood by, watching with a sad expression on her face. Within the home, between the cop and the pair, stood a man in a suit with a file and suitcase.

From his angle, Bucky couldn’t make out which of the twin’s was the survivor until he got close enough to see the wild curls that were on top of the head which lay on Steve’s shoulder. Softly, grief in his tones, Bucky nodded and said, “yeah . . . they’re here . . .”

In Steve’s arms, TJ didn’t return the hug, too shocked from the events to have really processed them yet. Against his chest, Steve could feel the thin body trembling and TJ’s breath was a bit shallow.

Stroking the twelve year old’s back with a large hand, Steve didn’t understand what their cousin was doing there to begin with so never ventured any words. He merely held the trembling boy tight and secure. Steve glanced over at Bucky, blue eyes troubled.

Bucky said his goodbyes with the police chief before hanging up and walking over to Steve, TJ, and the other two adults. Keeping his voice very low, Bucky asked the CS representative, “when?” He knew the man would understand the question.

Meeting Bucky’s eyes, the man answered, just as softly, offering a folder of papers, “almost midnight. The world’s going to wake up in shock once the press hears. We’ve kept it hushed but that won’t last.”

Sighing, Bucky nodded and took the papers from him, “will he need special protection or anything?”

The man glanced over at the boy then back at Bucky, “he wasn’t in the car with them.”

Nodding, having assumed that since TJ was there and not in a hospital after a multiple fatality accident; Bucky asked again, “secret service or anything? Or did you guys whisk him away before the media could get a hold of his location.” Bucky wanted to go comfort TJ, but he needed get these questions answered first.

“Let’s talk in another room, sir, please? He doesn’t need to hear this from me,” the representative responded quietly.

Nodding, Bucky gestured for him to follow, leading the man into the kitchen where he flipped on the light, setting the folder on the countertop.

Without preamble, the representative turned to look at Bucky and said, “as far as we can piece together, the boy was being punished for some infraction or another, so didn’t get to go with the family to a property they owned. He was left with staff, but not at the White House . . . at his grandmother’s house, though she was in the car, too. The President fell asleep at the wheel, no Secret Service or driver. He hit a wall at a high speed. The President and his wife died instantly, the other boy took two hours to pass. The grandmother died about an hour ago.” He sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “As soon as we identified the car and the victims, the chief sent me to get the boy. His grandmother was lucid enough to say where he was before she was taken away. We got him out of DC and on the way to his listed next of kin before any press could get involved.”

“Jesus,” Bucky ran his right hand through his hair; he didn’t even seem to realize he was shirtless in front of a stranger, so the other man could see all his scars. “And does _he_ even know what happened or just that his family . . . died?”

“He’s been told his family died in the car accident, but none of the gorey details, Mr. Rogers. We didn’t want to overstep,” the man glanced towards the doorway, checking on the boy in the other room.

“And . . . Doug?” Bucky asked, breathless, pale eyes miserable, “you say it took two hours . . . but, was he in a lot of pain?”

The man shook his head. “Not according to the doctors. He was in a coma when they found the car and slipped away on his own. The grandmother is another story, but the child doesn’t know that any of them were found alive.”

“Margaret suffered?” Bucky sighed softly, rubbing his eyes and then letting the hand fall down his face.

“From what I’ve been told, sir, yes. She was in a great deal of pain. The report is in the folder. You’ll need to sign the document saying he’s arrived and then call the courts to arrange a hearing for placement of the child.” The CS representative glanced towards the hallway again, where Steve merely stood holding TJ, never moving him anywhere.

Nodding, Bucky opened the folder and took out the paper that was on top which he was supposed to sign. Grabbing a pen, he signed the paper and then handed it to the representative.

“The rest are legal documents and preliminary findings from the hospital and the coroner’s investigation. You’ll need to follow through for death certificates, family placement for the child, funerals, and the rest. Do you need assistance? Counseling?”

Looking a bit overwhelmed, Bucky flipped through the documents, glancing at them. He looked back up at the man and said, “I . . . don’t know? He’ll probably need counseling . . . and we’re definitely going to file that he stay with us. We’re his only living relatives.”

The representative sighed, “personal opinion, not official, but it’s good neither you or your husband are in the spotlight. I think that boy needs out of the limelight.”

Frowning softly, Bucky nodded, “but, the media’s gonna find out where he is.”

“File with the court and local police to have the media keep away from the child. He’s a minor and doesn’t need to be harassed.” The representative glanced over to the pair in the hallway. “And it won’t be from us that they find out his location now. Hopefully by the time anyone figures it out, the police chief will have a proper statement arranged, as well as the White House. I can’t believe we lost the President . . .”

Swallowing thickly, Bucky nodded, running his fingers through his hair again, “how . . . how do I even arrange a funeral for a _President_?”

Tapping the file, the man answered, “call that number inside. The White House staff will help out. The President’s funeral will be handled by them. You’ll need to discuss with them if you should even arrange for the rest or if they will. Also, consider whether the boy will be prominent in the funeral or not. The people will expect to see him at least then. The people on this list will be able to help you.”

“Of course,” Bucky nodded again, looking down at the file and then back up at the man, “thank you for bringing him here.”

“Thank you for accepting him. Even for such a celebrity, most people wouldn’t want a preteen suddenly thrust on them. Especially one with such a history of mischief as Thomas.” The man sighed.

“He’s a good kid,” Bucky sighed, thinking of the adventurous, happy boy they’d taken on vacation. “So was his brother,” Bucky rubbed his eyes again, glancing in the hall and then back at the officer 

“They tried real hard to save the boy, but he just . . . slipped away. The preliminary says it was most likely severe brain trauma.” The representative looked down at the folder in Bucky’s hands then back at his face. “Do you need me for anything else, sir? I’ll be checked into the local motel for a few hours sleep then back to DC.”

“No, thank you,” Bucky set the folder down again and motioned for the other man to follow him back through the house, towards the front door.

The representative stopped by Steve and TJ. He lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay now, Thomas. You’re with your cousins. You have my number if you need me.”

TJ didn’t reply to the man, much like the ride over, where the boy hadn’t said a single word. The preteen simply nodded, not lifting his head from Steve’s shoulder, the trembling obvious on his thin frame.

After the cop and CS man left, Steve scooped TJ up, bridal style, and carried him upstairs. He walked over to the big master bed and climbed in, TJ and all. “Buck, get his shoes?” he asked softly.

Nodding, Bucky moved into the room and towards the boy on the bed. He carefully untied and then slipped off TJ’s shoes, setting them by the bed.

“In the morning, we’ll go to Maria’s place,” Steve referred to the Maria Stark Free Clinic. “For now, baby, you rest. Bucky and me . . . we’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

TJ didn’t say anything, just buried his face against Steve’s neck, cheeks wet with tears though he didn’t make any noise. He clung tightly to the large blond as if he were afraid that Steve, too, would be torn away from him.

Steve met Bucky’s eyes. In all the confusion and horror, one stray thought floated through his mind: _‘at least after that Disney trip, we hosted him for summer vacations every year.’_ The boy was familiar with the house, the family, even the cat, Shadow.

It was uncertain if TJ actually ever fell asleep, but after a few hours, the trembling stopped and his cheeks dried. The boy had just had everything he’d ever known taken from him and would have to learn how to live through life all over again.

**************

_AUGUST_

Bucky groaned as the alarm blared; he turned over on his side to push at Steve’s arm but was met with an empty spot, though the pillow was still warm. Mumbling under his breath, Bucky sat up, slapping the alarm off as he slipped out of the bed. Running a hand down his face, the brunet padded out of the room, not hearing his husband in the master bathroom. The hall was still quiet, as was the living room. Seeing Kevin in the kitchen, Bucky smiled at his adoptive son, “mornin’ Kevin, sleep alright?” Bucky knew that with TJ sharing a room with Kevin, until the twelve year old’s room was finished being added, that Kevin hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep. TJ had almost nightly night terrors that would wake him up screaming and crying since the accident which took his whole family.

The thin eleven year old had a shock of almost white-blond hair, falling into his bright grey eyes. No matter how much they fed him, Kevin never seemed to put on weight, but he was energetic enough, if quiet. He was so slight he looked more like an eight year old. Looking up, Kevin offered his sweet smile. “My Bucky!” he greeted his second father. “Slept fine, thank you. You want coffee?”

Laughing softly, Bucky nodded, happy that Kevin seemed energetic that morning, “sure . . . hey, you seen Dad? We were supposed to start decorating for Ava’s party . . .”

Nodding, Kevin slid from his stool to go make coffee for Bucky. “He’s working on the _Sunrise_ commission.”

“I told him to take it easy today,” Bucky shook his head. Steve’s hands cramped after long hours working on his art and the blond had nearly overworked himself the day before.

“He came downstairs and saw the light and seemed in a trance by it, Papa.” Kevin turned and offered the coffee mug to Bucky with his soft smile.

“Thanks, Kevin,” Bucky grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Before Bucky could take the mug, Kevin’s eyes glazed and rolled and he began shaking.

Grabbing the mug quickly and setting it on the counter, Bucky eased the boy down to the ground, immediately working on loosening his clothes and making sure the area was clear of any dangerous objects. It had been a few months since Kevin’s last seizure, and though he’d had many over the years, they never ceased to catch Bucky off guard.

After less than a minute, the boy stopped seizing and his body stilled, eyes dull and confused. This one hadn’t been as bad as some and Kevin lay in Bucky’s embrace, one hand weakly moving to grasp at Bucky’s strong hand.

“Hey, it’s alright, Kevin,” Bucky cooed gently, easing the boy onto his lap, with Kevin gripping his only hand, words were the only soothing he could give, “just another seizure, you’re alright.”

The sound of footsteps came from the front of the house and Steve padded in, barefoot, dressed in a light t-shirt and shorts. Upon seeing his husband and son, Steve slid to the floor and stroked Kevin’s hair. “How long this time, Buck?” he asked softly.

“Less than a minute,” Bucky answered on a gentle whisper.

With a nod, Steve continued to let his husband hold the boy. He merely stroked Kevin’s hair and assessed his condition. Finally, as Kevin began to ease out of his postictal state, the large blond man sat back on his feet and let out a sigh. “You’ll be okay, Kev. Let me get you something for your headache, okay?”

The boy didn’t respond much, just blinking slowly and looking up at his two fathers in helpless exhaustion.

“After Dad gets your medicine, I’ll help you to your room so you can take a nap, okay?” Bucky said softly, looking down at his son.

Kevin blinked slowly, signaling he heard and understood. Steve helped Kevin to sit up and swallow some headache medicine with cold water. Finally, nodding, Steve sat back and offered a smile to the pair. “You’ll be okay, Kev. You go rest. We’ll come get you when the party starts.”

“Can you walk, Kevin?” Bucky asked.

Nodding slightly, allowing Steve to help him, as well as Bucky, to his feet, Kevin leaned heavily on his adoptive father. The small eleven year old always seemed so frail after a seizure.

“C’mon, let’s get you up to bed,” Bucky smiled softly and helped guide the boy back up the stairs and into his bedroom where the brunet eased Kevin onto the bed, under his thin sheet. Absently, Bucky noted that the second bed, which had been crammed into the space for TJ, was empty. With a careful hand, Bucky ran his fingers through Kevin’s hair, smiling down at his son.

Blinking up at Bucky, Kevin whispered, “love you, Papa.” He let his grey eyes close as he drifted into his exhausted sleep.

“Love you, too, Tiger,” Bucky murmured and kissed Kevin’s forehead before leaving the room, heading back downstairs.

Steve stood drinking the coffee Kevin had made, but he’d started a fresh one for Bucky. He lifted his eyes to meet Bucky’s and sighed, lowering the mug from his lips. “He okay?”

Rubbing his face, Bucky nodded, “yeah, he’s sleeping. Damn, it’s been a couple months since the last one . . .”

Sighing, Steve nodded, “yeah, every time we get a long quiet spell, I keep hoping it’s stopped for good. Bruce said adjusting his medicine might not help until he’s hit puberty. Right now, he’s on a safe dose of the various meds, and they’re tricky to balance out together.”

“You sure you want to put him in public school this year? We can hold off for one more . . .” Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the long locks, as he looked over at Steve with worried eyes.

Drawing in a deep breath, Steve let it out slowly. “We keep putting it off. Kevin’s never going to learn to adjust to the real world with his epilepsy if we don’t give him the chance. And this year, the teacher he’s been assigned is a registered EMT. She’s even dealt with epileptic children in the past.” He took a sip of his hot coffee to try to steady himself; Steve very rarely drank coffee due to his heart; the seizure had definitely worried him. “And since he’s skipping a year, he’ll be in TJ’s classes. That should help TJ adjust, too.”

Bucky poured himself another mug of coffee, long since used to doing things one-handed. He sighed and nodded before walking over to the fridge to grab the stuff to make his usual vanilla coffee.

“I mean, if you . . . we could try for one more year of homeschooling if you think it’s safer?” Steve worried just as readily as he’d listed the reasons Kevin should go to public school at last. It would be his first time in a public school. “We could keep TJ here with Kevin . . . teach them both?”

Cradling the supplies in one arm, Bucky walked back to his cup and began mixing them in, “no, you’re right . . . Kevin, needs a chance to get accustomed to the real world. And TJ needs to learn how not to be afraid of it.” Bucky sighed and looked at Steve, “TJ wasn’t in the room when I put Kevin to bed . . . think he’s out back again?”

“Did you check the shower?” Steve asked softly, sighing.

Shaking his head, Bucky informed, “no, and didn’t hear it running, either. But, he could’ve just been finishing up, I guess? I didn’t hear him screaming last night; either means he slept through the night or didn’t sleep at all.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll see if I can find him, Buck.” He put down the coffee, half finished, and strode out of the kitchen.

“Check outside first,” Bucky called out after his husband. It didn’t bother him that TJ had connected more with Steve; Bucky wanted TJ as comfortable as possible.

Steve detoured outside, checking the back deck and the pool area first. “Teej?” he said, softly.

The twelve year old sat on the back porch steps, his back to the door. He looked over his shoulder at the tall blond. “Mornin’ Steve,” he said just as softly, the dark circles under his eyes evident.

Steve sank down beside the twelve year old boy. “Didn’t sleep, huh?” he asked, slipping his arm around the brunet in a hug.

“Didn’t want to wake up Kevin,” TJ murmured, laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Is it time to decorate for Ava’s party?”

“Yeah, it is. Did you want to try to sleep now the sun’s up? You can use the big bed in my room.” Steve stroked the boy’s hair.

“No, doesn’t matter if the sun’s up,” TJ rubbed his eyes and then pulled out of Steve’s embrace to stand up. “Wanna help . . . for Ava’s party.”

Nodding, Steve stood. “Of course you get to help. TJ, did you want to talk with Riley later?”

Looking down at the wooden porch, TJ shrugged one shoulder, “talkin’ ain’t gonna make the nightmares go away.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Steve said. “But he helped Bucky with _his_ nightmares, and sure helped with mine and Kevin’s.” Steve put a hand on the preteen’s back and guided him into the house.

Bucky looked over as the two entered the kitchen through the back door. “Morning, TJ,” the larger brunet glanced at Steve, pale eyes worried.

“Mornin’,” TJ answered, lifting his head to give Bucky a half-hearted smile. Looking up at Steve, TJ asked, “what do you want me to help with for the party?” This would be the first party TJ had attended since losing his family; his own birthday just a couple weeks before hadn’t been a happy affair for the boy.

“How about you put out the stuff you can reach and I’ll do the streamers? Wanna do the balloons?” Steve offered two different jobs to the boy.

“I can do that,” TJ nodded, heading out of the kitchen to the dining table where the decorations were.

Bucky looked after TJ with a worried frown and back to Steve, “he looks exhausted . . . you think he was out there all night?” He kept his voice low, so TJ wouldn’t overhear.

“Yeah, I think he was. He said he didn’t want to wake up Kevin with the nightmares, so never slept.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “And he doesn’t think seeing Riley will help.”

“I know how that feels,” Bucky sighed, he took a sip of his coffee and then continued, “but, we need to get him into therapy, Steve. He can’t keep going on little to no sleep.”

“Let’s have Riley talk to him at the party. He did wonders getting you into therapy after talking to you for a few minutes.” Steve offered a soft smile then glanced at Bucky’s empty sleeve. “Shoulder hurting, baby?” Steve asked softly, changing the subject, fully aware that Bucky wasn’t wearing the experimental prosthetic Tony had provided him.

Looking over, Bucky chewed his bottom lip and nodded, “uh . . . yeah - - working that double yesterday might’ve pushed it too far, but I’ll be fine . . . speaking of which, I thought I told you to take it easy today, Steve? Don’t want your hands cramping up again.”

Not even pretending to misunderstand, Steve nodded. “I was stopping for the day anyway, Buck, I promise. The light was perfect this morning and I think I finally got the right shade of rose matched.” He smiled and stepped closer to Bucky. Leaning into his beloved husband, Steve placed a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Bucky. And good morning?”

Smiling, Bucky nodded, “good morning, husband whom I love.” The brunet winked and grabbed the stuff to carry back to the fridge.

Laughing, Steve shook his head, smile crinkling his eyes and making them sparkle. “Well, I’ve got the boxes and stuff already in the living room if we want to get started?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, putting the things away before turning back to Steve, “might wanna get started on that. She’ll be up soon.”

“The only days we can’t keep her _in_ bed: holidays and birthdays,” Steve chuckled. He rinsed his cup, checked it then set it to drip dry on the drainboard. Steve led the way to the living room.

Grabbing his coffee before heading back into the living room, Bucky laughed softly and nodded, “you’re telling me. Last year, we barely managed to get the decorations up before she woke up. I think she’s trying to beat us . . . maybe next year we can do it the night before?”

TJ looked over from where he sat at the table, blowing pink and white balloons. He didn’t say anything to the adults, just continued working on one of the jobs Steve had given him. There was no sign of Kevin, a normally very early riser.

“Well, this time I might have thwarted her. I _started_ decorating after she went to bed for about an hour. And I also snuck in and reset her alarm for another hour.” Steve grinned wickedly, reaching over for the streamers. The living room did, indeed, show efforts at some decorating, but certainly not enough for _Steve’s_ normal level of work for an hour.

“An hour, huh?” Bucky looked around, taking another drink of his coffee; normally his husband could accomplish quite a bit in an hour . . . and the decorating usually never took more than that anyway.

“Yup, but I got a bit tired so stopped,” Steve stood on the step stool to attach twisted streamers in falls from the ceiling.

“Tired?” Bucky’s brow quirked, though his eyes looked worried, “you feeling okay? Need me to make another appointment with Bruce? Didn’t you start that new medication or something?”

“You mean for the depression? Yeah, about a week ago.” Steve looked down from his perch to smile softly at his husband. “Been a bit lethargic ever since. I think it might not like my heart meds, actually.”

“Alright, I’ll make an appointment first thing Monday morning, okay? You tell me if it gets worse,” Bucky looked up at his husband expectantly; it wasn’t a question, it was a request.

Nodding, Steve looked back at what he was doing, “promise, Bucky. But I think I got a good bit done last night before I had to quit.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, not saying how a few balloons and a couple streamers weren’t quite what Bucky would consider a _good bit_ , “looks great, Steve.”

Blinking and looking back down, Steve suddenly laughed, throwing his head back. “I doubt you’ve seen it!” He looked back at Bucky, eyes dancing, “wait for it . . . you’ll see soon.”

Between the three of them, they managed to get the living room completely decorated within an hour. Pink, white, and grey balloons and streamers decorated the main living area; Bucky looked around, pleased with the outcome.

Steve checked his watch and smiled widely. “Wait for it,” he repeated his last statement from almost an hour before.

A few moments later, Ava’s voice called out happily shocked, “Steve? You decorated my room?!”

Laughing, meeting Bucky’s eyes, Steve called back, “what? No birthday fairy this year?”

Grinning wide, Bucky looked at the staircase and then back at Steve, “you decorated her room . . . while she was sleeping?”

“Yup,” Steve chuckled. “She was so tired last night, I knew she’d never wake. So, I figured _why not_?”

Ava hurried down the stairs and hugged Steve tightly, “thanks!”

Hugging his adopted daughter back, Steve laughed again. “Happy sweet sixteen, princess.” He kissed her forehead.

Smiling happily, Ava pulled away from Steve and went over to hug Bucky, who also wished her a happy birthday, kissing the top of her head. She gave a smile to TJ, who stood back slightly, and gave her cousin a hug as well. Ava looked around and her smile faded, “where’s Kevin? He’s always up.”

Sighing, smile dropping away, Steve said, “resting.”

“He had another seizure, Squirt,” Bucky informed, giving her a soft smile, “but he’ll be okay. No hospital this time.”

“Oh,” Ava continued to frown, looking sad, “okay.”

“So, what does the birthday girl want for breakfast this time?” Steve asked, trying to break the somber mood. Everyone loved Kevin and his seizures worried them all: what if he had one at the top of the stairs or crossing the street or something equally dangerous?

“Pancakes?” Ava looked at Steve.

“Not chicken nuggets?” Steve teased as he moved to the cabinets to begin collecting what he would need.

Huffing, rolling her eyes playfully, “I was _ten_. I don’t even eat chicken nuggets anymore!” she said, following Steve into the kitchen.

Nodding, Steve set to work, chuckling and lightly teasing both Ava and Bucky. He moved swiftly but not haphazardly, and soon there were several large pancakes on Ava’s plate and more cooking for Bucky and TJ.

Ava made quick work of slathering up the pancakes with butter and pouring syrup all over them. “What time is everyone coming over?” She asked before taking a large bite.

“Noon,” Steve answered promptly. “So, we’ve got time to force you into an outfit you despise and take all the corny home pictures we can.” He shot her a grin. A cringe crossed TJ’s features but he kept his face down.

“Nope, I am definitely picking my own outfit,” Ava quipped after swallowing, “gotta look good for company, right?”

Lifting a brow, Steve glanced to Bucky then back at Ava. “Oh? Any _specific_ company you need to _look good for_?”

Ava flushed, “well, _maybe_ . . .”

“Nope,” Bucky said simply, “you are not allowed to date, or _look good_ for anyone, until you’re thirty . . . you know the rules,” his lips were pulled into a smile as he looked at Ava.

Chuckling, Steve flipped pancakes onto Bucky and TJ’s plates and froze, looking at the hallway door. He smiled softly at the rumpled boy standing there, dragging a very old battered stuffed cloud leopard. “Hey, Kev. Hungry?”

Kevin shook his head. “No, thank you,” he climbed up onto a stool next to Bucky’s, leaning into his left side. Kevin seemed to continue to droop a bit but he was at least not in a seizure state.

TJ looked over at Kevin; he offered a quiet, “mornin’ Kevin,” and then turned his attention back to the pancakes, which he cut with his fork but didn’t take a bite.

Offering a weak version of his normally sunny smile, Kevin said, “morning’ Teej. Missed you last night.”

Bucky winced softly as Kevin pressed against his slightly raw shoulder and small stump of what remained of his left arm, though he didn’t make Kevin move, knowing the boy often needed physical contact to soothe him. He might have to skip the prosthetic for the day, give his skin a chance to heal. He really shouldn’t have pushed it and covered for Pietro the night before . . . but the teen had called in sick and they couldn’t find anyone to cover his shift.

Kevin smiled softly at his adopted sister. “Heya, My Ava. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Kevin,” Ava grinned before taking another bite, “feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks. Less confused,” Kevin answered. He sat up once more, pulling away from Bucky’s side but not away completely. Kevin always seemed to hang on or near Bucky, touching whenever possible, actually.

Shadow, Ava’s cat Bucky and Steve had given her six years before, meowed and rubbed against the legs of Ava’s stool. Ava grinned, “morning, Shadow,” she bent down to run her fingers through the cat’s soft fur.

Steve began making food for Kevin and himself. “So, Ava, what’re your plans until the party? Anything special this morning?”

Sitting back up, Ava shrugged, “I don’t know . . . just get ready, I guess,” her phone buzzed from where it had been sitting on the counter; picking it up, she read the message and smiled brightly, “is it okay if Daniel comes over earlier?”

Steve looked to Bucky, amusement on his face. “Ask your Bucky,” he laughed and flipped the pancakes.

Ava looked to her uncle with wide, pleading eyes, “please, Bucky?”

Snorting, Bucky laughed and shook his head, “I suppose it’s fine . . . he should just move in, he’s practically here everyday,” his tone was teasing, of course he wasn’t serious about a boy moving in with his teenage niece.

“Then we’d have to convert the art room again,” Kevin said quietly, teasing, showing he still remembered when _he’d_ joined the family six years before. “The room we’re building now is TJ’s.”

“Ah, that’s right, couldn’t have that,” Bucky chuckled. “Plus, I’m not sure we have any more room for any more add ons.”

Ava slipped off her stool, taking her plate from the kitchen island to rinse it off and then put it in the dishwasher.

“And he can’t move in with Ava, they’d have to leave the door open and that would be no fun when they wanted to sleep,” Kevin said with the innocence of childhood, despite what he’d been through.

Steve choked.

Bucky shook his head, “nope. It is way too early to be talking about this.”

Steve plated pancakes for their son and slid them on the island in front of Kevin. He asked, “seconds anyone?” though he knew that the others had smaller appetites than he did.

“No, thank you, Steve. They were great . . . but I’m going to go get ready,” Ava plucked her phone off the counter and hurried back up the stairs.

Steve rinsed the pan to cool it a bit before sitting down with his own breakfast, on the other side of Bucky from Kevin. TJ looked at Steve and pushed his less than half eaten plate towards the blond, “do you want the rest of mine, Steve?” TJ had fallen into Bucky’s habit of having Steve finish whatever he couldn’t.

“Sure, Teej,” Steve took the boy’s plate and began eating the leftovers without much thought.

“I’m gonna go shower? If that’s okay?” TJ waited until one of the adults excused him from the table before slipping out of the stool and up the stairs.

Bucky groaned and pushed his empty plate forward so he could fall forward and rest his forehead against the granite, “don’t grow up, Kevin. Stay eleven, okay?”

“I can try, but next year it’ll be hard to keep July first away, Papa,” Kevin answered in all honesty.

“We’ll rip July from the calendar,” Bucky mumbled.

“Oh, good, I get to be thirty-three forever,” Steve chuckled.

Sitting back up, Bucky took care of his dish and walked back into the living room.

Kevin and Steve watched him go, still eating. “Can I be done, Dad?” Kevin asked quietly, not even a quarter of the way through his typical breakfast. Steve nodded, worried, and watched as his son took off for the living room, as well.

“Not hungry, Kevin?” Bucky asked as Kevin hurried into the living room.

“Not really, my tummy still hurts after my seizure,” he sighed and sank onto the couch. “Is you tummy okay today, Papa?”

“Sure is, Tiger,” Bucky grinned; he walked over and knelt in front of his adoptive son, taking in his pale, tired appearance. Bucky brushed the platinum blond hair away from Kevin’s forehead, “do you need more rest, Kevin? I can wake you before the party? We still got a couple hours?” He wished he could convince TJ to sleep but the boy was stubborn and once he set his mind on something, that was it.

Kevin looked thoughtful then leaned over and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and hugged gently. “I’m scared . . .” he said softly, voice wavering.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Bucky asked just as soft, wrapping his one arm around Kevin’s thin body.

“No . . .” the boy sighed and buried his face in Bucky’s right shoulder with a tremble. “I don’t think I wanna get a dog.”

“I thought you liked Avenger? You two seemed to get along good . . . and TJ’s getting one, too. Why are you scared to get a dog, Tiger? ” Bucky asked, frowning softly, worried that Kevin had seen a warning on the TV or read something on the internet that had made him afraid of dogs.

Lifting his face, tears in his huge grey eyes, Kevin whimpered, “cause I’ll be sick forever if I get a dog.” He shook his head. “TJ get’s a real dog, but I get a sick people dog.”

“Oh, Kevin,” Bucky smiled softly and stroked his thumb over Kevin’s cheek, “but a dog will be able to help you if your Dad or me or Ava or TJ aren’t around. Plus, you’ll have a friend with you no matter where you go.” Steve and Bucky had been trying to get Kevin a service dog for months, but Kevin never seemed to match with any of the dogs. “You liked Avenger, right? And,” Bucky leaned forward and whispered to Kevin as if he were telling a secret, “TJ’s dog is a _sick people_ dog, too, Kevin.”

“But,” Kevin whimpered softly, always quieter when he got upset, “if I get Avenger _everyone_ will know I’m sick and a freak . . .” He dropped the subject of TJ’s dog, knowing _that_ was a losing argument.

“Kevin,” Bucky said softly but firmly, “you aren’t a freak. Where did you hear that? I know none of us have ever called you that. And, Uncle Clint and Aunt Natasha would never say that, either. Who said you were a freak?”

“A kid at the bookstore last month. I . . .” Kevin looked up and sighed, his voice almost unheard, “I had a seizure at the bookstore.” He’d never told his parents about that, and apparently their good friends hadn’t known or told, either.

Bucky’s eyes widened, “you had a seizure at the bookstore? Kevin, you _have_ to tell us if you have a seizure, okay? We need to know so we can keep track,” he sighed and ran his fingers through Kevin’s hair.

“I don’t wanna be sick anymore, Papa,” Kevin whimpered.

“Sometimes . . . people are sick, Kevin. There is nothing wrong with needing medicine or a service dog. Your Dad and I take medicine every day. Remember? I used to be ashamed to take the medicine, too, but I realized that I needed it, to be able to take care of my children which I love more than anything,” Bucky smiled at his adoptive son, “sometimes, people need medicine to feel better . . . I know being sick isn’t fun and can be really scary. But,” he cupped Kevin’s cheek, “you are one of the strongest boys I have ever known, you’ll get through this, right? And you know that me, Dad, Ava, and TJ will always be here to help and support you.”

“But the medicine doesn’t help me like it does you or Dad. I’ll always poop and drool and shake . . .” he cried into Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna anymore. And I’m gonna go to school and everyone will _know_ and laugh and call me a freak . . .”

Bucky sighed and rubbed Kevin’s back soothingly, “well, the kids that do, which there might not even be, aren’t worth your time. If they can’t see what an amazing, sweet, kind boy you are . . . they’re dumb, okay? But, if you are really worried, Dad and I can homeschool you for another year?”

“Dad says he wants me to learn to be in the real world.” Kevin lifted his tear streaked, pinkened face, his voice steady if quiet, despite the crying.

“Well, if you’re really, really scared and want to hold off another year, I can talk to Dad, okay? But, I want you to think real hard about it before you commit one way or another. We have a couple weeks before school starts, so you have time,” Bucky offered gently, wiping Kevin’s cheek.

“Avenger’s gonna laugh at me for being a crybaby,” Kevin whimpered, wiping an arm over his eyes.

“Avenger will not laugh at you, Kevin. He’ll love you and protect you. All the kids, if you decide to go to school, will be so jealous that you have such an amazing friend like Avenger,” Bucky smiled softly again, trying to reassure his son.

“Dogs aren’t allowed in schools Aunt Becca said,” Kevin looked calmer once more.

“Well, Aunt Becca is wrong, Avenger will have a cool vest that he’ll wear which will allow him in any building you want to go in. He’ll be with you wherever you go,” Bucky explained.

“And people will know he’s with me because I’m not like any of the normal kids,” Kevin said softly.

“Normal is boring,” Bucky stated.

“But _you’re_ normal and I wanna be like you, Papa!” Kevin argued.

“I am most definitely _not_ normal,” Bucky laughed softly, “how many people you see with a _robot_ arm? And I have to take medicine every single day so I don’t make myself so sick from worrying. I don’t know if you remember, but I got really, really sick when you were little. I worried so much that I didn’t eat and I had to stay at the clinic for a few days because I didn’t eat.”

“I remember, Papa,” Kevin said quietly. “I remember everything ever.” If he truly _did_ recall as much as he said, then Kevin recalled his horribly toddler years. “You were worried Aunt Becca would take Ava from us.”

“That’s right,” Bucky nodded, “and your Dad convinced me to go back on my medicine so I wouldn’t worry so much. Now, I can be here for you and Ava and Dad and TJ. There is nothing to be ashamed of about being sick and needing help.”

“But you don’t pee yourself or poop your pants like a baby when you get sick,” Kevin pointed out.

“Kevin, there are _so_ many people that have accidents when they are sick. There are a whole bunch of kids that have epilepsy,” Bucky countered gently, “would you like for me to take you to a support group, where you can meet kids just like you?”

“Like what Dad goes to because he was hurt by the man who sold me?” Kevin asked. He thought about it, leaned into his second father and nodded. “Will you go with me, My Bucky?”

“Of course,” Bucky kissed the top of Kevin’s head, “I’ll find one and hopefully we can go sometime this week.” Steve was so very busy with his art gallery, that Bucky was often the one home with Kevin and Ava, when she wasn’t at school or with Daniel, and TJ, since the accident occurred last June.

“But we’ve got to get Avenger . . .” Kevin added quietly, accepting the dog once again. He had really been excited every time he got near his assigned companion.

“Well, how about you go get dressed and we’ll go pick up Avenger this morning? I think we can pick up Malakai, too, if TJ’s up to going out.” Bucky offered.

Nodding, Kevin sat back as if reluctant. “But if they laugh at the party, can we find Avenger a different kid who doesn’t mind being sick so much?”

“No one is going to laugh at the party, Kevin. They will all love Avenger and you know they already love you, c’mon,” Bucky helped ease Kevin to stand, “go get dressed, Tiger, I bet Avenger misses you and wants to come home.”

“But isn’t Ava’s friend Freddy coming to her party? He says I’m a freak. He’s gonna laugh at me!” Despite his forceful manner, Kevin’s voice never raised very high. He only got loud when laughing.

“Well, if Freddy laughs at you, we’ll kick him out . . . I’ll have Dad kick his butt out the door, how does that sound?” Bucky smiled gently, squeezing Kevin’s shoulder.

Nodding, Kevin hugged Bucky again, hard. Slowly, pulling back so he could go get dressed, Kevin paused. “I gotta tell you about every seizure?”

“Every single one,” Bucky confirmed with a nod.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll get my diary,” Kevin turned and headed for the steps.

Walking back into the kitchen, trying not to think that if Kevin kept a diary he must’ve hidden other seizures from them, Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, “gonna take Kevin to pick up Avenger, I’ll see if TJ wants to come with and pick up Malakai, and then go to the pharmacy . . . gotta pick up more of my cream, almost out. Need anything?” He looked at Steve.

“No, oh!” Steve grinned, “Kevin’s newest meds should be ready, though they haven’t called yet. Can you check?”

“Of course,” Bucky nodded, “mind staying here? With Daniel coming over . . .” he let the sentence trail off, knowing his husband would get his concern over leaving their teenage daughter alone with her male best friend, though almost everyone suspected they were more serious than that.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have them work out back to help me finish decorating for the pool part of the party. How’s Kevin?” Steve started washing up the breakfast dishes, island, and stove.

“Scared to start school, I guess that punk friend of Ava’s . . . Freddy? He called Kevin a freak when he had a seizure at the bookstore, which he failed to inform me about . . . did he say anything to you?” Bucky asked, frowning softly.

“Wait . . . a seizure at the bookstore? When?” Steve stopped and turned quickly, inadvertently dripping soap and water on the floor.

“About a month ago, I guess,” Bucky reported, shaking his head.

“So . . . about the time Becca was watching them while I had to go to Boston and you were out sick?” Steve frowned.

“Of course,” Bucky grumbled, “I’ll talk with her. Explain to her she needs to tells us if Kevin has a seizure, though, I would think that would be a given.” Bucky and Becca had a strained relationship since the events of six years before, not to mention the original fire which resulted in Ava going to Bucky . . . he had a really hard time trusting his sister.

Sighing, Steve asked, “so, there’s one seizure we didn’t know about . . .”

“Kevin says he has a _diary_ ,” Bucky frowned.

“Wait . . . a diary? Of unreported seizures?” Steve looked stunned. “Where did he get the idea he should keep track but not tell?” Steve rinsed his hands, leaving the rest of the cleaning to do after. It was a testament to his counseling that he could resist cleaning when getting upset. “Does Ava know he does this, at least?”

“I have no idea,” Bucky shook his head, turning to walk up the stairs. He made it to Ava’s room and knocked on the closed door, “Ava? Steve and I need to ask you a question real fast.”

Ava opened the door a few moments later, looking slightly annoyed at being interrupted, “what’s up?”

Daniel sat on the bed behind her apparently having gotten there without notifying them . . . and they’d been sitting on the bed with the door closed, against rules. Daniel had a deck of cards he’d been shuffling, which he often did, and looked surprised that Bucky had opened the door.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly; he looked at Ava, “you know the rules, Ava. No closed doors when company is over.”

“We didn’t do nothing,” Daniel said in a shocked voice, flushing lightly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, looking at Daniel and then back at his niece, “Ava knows the rules.”

Ava rolled her eyes, “we were just hanging out.”

“Ava,” Steve’s voice dropped to an authoritative tone. “The agreement is no closed doors with visitors. You don’t need them if you’re only hanging out, do you?” He crossed his arms, hands still wet. Obviously what he wanted to ask must be important for him to interrupt cleaning.

Huffing, Ava rolled her eyes again, “‘kay, no closed doors with company. Is that what you two came up for?”

“No, we wanted to ask if you know how often Kevin’s had seizures without telling us? We already found out about one at the bookstore from last month while I was in Boston?” Steve frowned, eyes worried.

“I don’t know, maybe once a week? I thought he was telling you,” Ava looked at Steve, “but . . . Mom did tell him to keep track . . . and that he didn’t have to _bother_ you guys with each episode . . . didn’t think he’d listen to her.”

Bucky growled low and turned abruptly, walking to the master bedroom.

Steve drew in a breath then let it out slowly; sounding upset, he said, “thanks, Ava. You know he has to tell us so we can help adjust his meds, right?” Steve ran his wet hand over his hair then frowned at the soapy water residue he left behind.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought he was telling you guys,” Ava shrugged, “next time I’ll let you guys know if I see one, okay?”

“Thanks, princess,” Steve offered a faint smile. “I’m gonna go check on Bucky . . . he’s supposed to get Avenger and Malakai today for Kevin and TJ.” He turned and hurried to the master bedroom. “Bucky, love?”

Bucky was getting dressed, looking furious, “who the hell does she think she is? I mean, she is _not_ Kevin’s mother! For Christ’s sake! I even convinced you to give her a job! And this is the bullshit she pulls!” Bucky tore off his sleep shirt, revealing his raw shoulder to his husband, though the fuming man seemed oblivious as he walked over the the closet, “I mean, what the hell? Telling Kevin to hide his seizures from us?”

“We’ll explain to her that she can’t do that, legally, Buck. She may have meant well.” Steve was just as angry but often played the diplomat. “Ava promised to tell if she witnessed any more. Apparently, he’s had one a week recently.” Steve sighed and moved to give Bucky a cuddle, “Kevin needs Avenger more than ever.”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head, “I know. Luckily we’re picking him up today.” The brunet reached into the closet and pulled out one of his t-shirts.

Steve kissed between Bucky’s shoulder blades and sighed. He reluctantly let go so his husband could get dressed. “I’m going to go look in on him. He’s been dressing for awhile.”

“Alright, let me finish . . . think I might skip on the prosthetic today,” Bucky informed his husband, looking down at the raw, inflamed skin on his left shoulder, “give it a chance to heal, ya know?”

“Of course,” Steve smiled. “You relax, baby. I’ll take charge of the party. Just concentrate on Kevin and yourself?”

“You’re amazing,” Bucky grinned, pulling on his shirt and smoothing it down.

“Nah,” Steve chuckled, “I’m just a guy in love with the most amazing husband anyone could want.”

“Ya big sap,” Bucky smiled, flushing lightly, he leaned forward to kiss Steve.

Nodding in agreement, Steve tugged Bucky over by the hips so they were flush, sealing his mouth eagerly over his husband’s.

Humming into the kiss, Bucky tilted his head to deepen it, his tongue swiping at his husband's bottom lip to gain entry. With three children and Steve's very busy schedule it was often hard to find time to be intimate with one another, so Bucky cherished each and every little moment.

“I do love you, Buck,” Steve breathed against his husband’s lips with a smile, eyes crinkled in amusement. “But we gotta pick this up when Kevin’s not watching us from the hallway.” He backed up with another kiss and turned to the pale, quiet eleven year old in the doorway.

Nodding, Bucky flashed his son a grin before turning to grab and put on a pair of sneakers, “hey, Tiger. All ready to go? Was TJ finished?”

“Yeah both times,” he said with a soft smile. “But you don’t have to stop because of me. I don’t mind.”

“That's very nice of you,” Bucky laughed gently; he walked over to the boy and ruffled his hair, “but we should get going anyways if we wanna be back in time for the party.”

“Okay,” Kevin nodded. “But you can kiss Dad when you get home again, Papa. You don’t kiss each other enough.” He turned towards the steps, still smiling. “TJ, we’re going.”

Steve laughed.

Winking at Steve, Bucky called after the boy, “you're tellin’ me!” He looked back at Steve, “be back soon. I love you.”

“We’ll be here, love,” Steve called then headed back to Ava’s room to rouse the teens to help get the pool ready for the party.

Bucky followed Kevin down the stairs.


	2. New Friends, Many Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Nothing particular**

Bucky looked over at TJ, who was in the front seat, buckled in, and then in the mirror at Kevin, who was also buckled. TJ chewed his bottom lip nervously, his fingers drumming anxiously against his thighs. Ever since the accident, TJ had a very hard time in cars; it had taken Steve and Bucky nearly a month to get him in one without a major episode.

“So,” Bucky drawled, trying to keep TJ occupied, “you finish your present for Ava, Kevin? Did you tell TJ what you’re making her?” He pulled out of the driveway smoothly and headed in the direction of the kennel.

Kevin frowned softly. ”Yeah, he’s helping me make it, Papa.”

Smiling, Bucky glanced at TJ and then back at Kevin before turning his eyes back on the road, “oh? I didn’t know that.”

TJ shrugged one shoulder, fingers still tapping, “not helpin’ all that much. Kevin’s doin’ most the work.”

“Still helping,” Kevin added, smiling softly, though his eyes looked worried as he looked out the window.

“You’re doing the picture, right? Or did you decide on something else?” Bucky asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Yes, Papa. I did the picture,” Kevin’s eyes fell on the sign for the Service Dogs United kennel. He sighed and fiddled with the strap over his chest.

Nodding, Bucky found a parking spot and stopped the car, which elicited a sigh of relief from TJ. Bucky looked at the two boys and asked, “you guys ready?” He’d hoped that Kevin and TJ would’ve looked a little more excited for picking up their service dogs.

TJ nodded, not saying anything, and unbuckled his seatbelt before slipping out of the vehicle. He waited for the others to get out, looking at the large kennel, his fingers tapping anxiously against his thighs.

Kevin drew a breath in then released it. They’d been coming here for several weeks while Kevin and TJ trained with their dogs. But now, it seemed more like an admission to his illness than a chance to get a dog all his own. Taking Bucky’s hand, Kevin began walking towards the front door of the building.

TJ stayed a few paces behind Bucky and Kevin, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide the anxious tapping. Bucky looked over his shoulder at TJ and offered the boy a smile. When Kevin opened the door for the group, they all stepped into the kennel.

A woman behind the counter, young, pretty, and with her brunet hair pulled into a neat ponytail, smiled at the trio. “Welcome. How may I help you?”

“Hello,” Bucky said, giving the woman a smile of his own; he looked at Kevin and TJ and then back to the woman behind the counter, “we’re here to pick up two dogs.”

Nodding, she smiled and looked down at the boys then back at Bucky. “And have your sons been training with dogs or are you signing up now?”

“They’ve been training,” Bucky answered, walking up to the desk, “the dogs should be ready to take home today. Malakai and Avenger?”

Nodding, she looked at her book and said, “Malakai and Avenger are not here. They’ve been picked up already.”

Blinking, Bucky shook his head, “no, ma’am, we’re here to pick them up. I called earlier to confirm and the gentleman said they were here.”

Shaking her head, the girl said, “I’m sorry, sir, but they aren’t available. They were picked up at eight this morning by a man named James Rogers.”

Sighing softly, Bucky reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then ID. Handing the plastic card over to her, Bucky said, “ _I’m_ James Rogers.”

She studied the card as Kevin looked worried, biting his lip. Nodding, the woman handed the card back. “It says right here that you called at eight and claimed the two dogs.”

Bucky tried to stay calm, knowing there had to be a misunderstanding somewhere, “I _did_ call at eight, ma’am. But, we haven’t been in this morning, yet. Is there a manager or someone I can talk to? Liam was the trainer for both of them, he’ll be able to tell you that Malakai and Avenger are their,” he motioned to TJ and Kevin, “dogs and have been training with them for months.”

She shook her head. “Liam’s on lunch break, sir. And the book _says_ they’ve been claimed since eight. Maybe he got them mixed up and gave them to the wrong family?” She looked worried.

“ _Both_ of them? How can you misplace _both_ dogs? Don’t you need to see identification before giving them out?” Bucky felt seriously concerned at this point.

“I didn’t give them out. Liam signed the book,” she clarified.

“Well, can you call Liam back? I’m sure he’ll understand,” Bucky didn’t look at the two boys, not wanting them to see his own worry.

“I don’t have his cell phone. I’m new,” the girl bit her lip again and glanced at the boys.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Bucky asked, as calmly as he could, “is it okay if I see the book, ma’am?”

She nodded and turned the book to him, pointing out where the book said Bucky had called to claim the dogs at eight that morning. Looking at the book and then back at the lady, Bucky frowned, “yeah, I _claimed_ them, not picked them up. Are you the only person here? Is there someone who can take us back to the kennels?”

Brightly, the woman said, “I can take you back!”

“Let’s do that, then,” Bucky gave the woman a smile, gesturing for Kevin and TJ to step ahead of him, after the woman.

“I’m not sure what you expect, sir, but I can show you the kennels.” She led the threesome to the back kennel area, where it was neat and clean and orderly. Each kennel was marked with a specific dog’s name and statistics, though most were out training or in the exercise yard. Towards the halfway point down the large room, the young woman stopped and gestured towards the kennels where Avenger and Malakai sat, side by side, the paper on each marking them as having been claimed for pick up. She looked surprised.

TJ stepped towards Malakai, a mostly white Siberian Husky, and crouched down in front of the dog he’d been training with for a few months. Both Bucky and Steve had seen the symptoms of PTSD in TJ and had suggested the service dog to help him cope.

Kevin tugged Bucky’s hand, “Papa, there’s Avenger right there.”

Bucky nodded and then looked at the woman, “those are their dogs, ma’am.”

Kevin, a clever boy for his age, often surprised people due to his small size and very young appearance. “Ma’am, the tags say claimed, not picked up.”

She frowned and looked at the log book still in her hands. “Called and claimed, eight o’clock a.m.” she said.

“Not picked up,” TJ piped up from his spot near the kennel, his fingers stroking Malakai’s fur through the links., the dog licking at his fingers.

She looked at Bucky, looking a bit helpless suddenly. “Oh . . . uh . . . may I see your identification to see if it matches the dog papers?”

Nodding, Bucky pulled out his ID again and passed it over to her.

She studied it for a very long time, comparing the identification to the logbook and the tags on the dog kennels. Finally, she sighed. “I’m sorry. That was my confusion. These are your dogs, sir.” She offered a hopeful smile.

Bucky gave her a smile in return as he took back his driver’s license and slipped it back in his wallet. “It’s okay. But, we’d really like to take them home. The boys are excited for them,” Bucky glanced at the two boys and then back at the woman, “is there anymore paperwork I got to sign?”

Nodding, the woman said, “of course. Why don’t we put them on harness and go back out front. She took down two dog harnesses, specially marked with each dog’s name and containing matching service vests. Handing them to Bucky, she waited, smiling.

“I can do Avenger’s Papa,” Kevin said, smiling and taking the harness-vest combo. Now that he was with the dog again, his fears and worries had evaporated and the excitement had bubbled back up once more. Carefully, Kevin turned and began harnessing the German Shepherd as the woman let it out of the kennel and turned to let Malakai out.

TJ took the harness and vest from Bucky with a small smile before putting them on Malakai. After both dogs were ready, Bucky let the boys lead their dogs out of the kennels and back towards the front room.

The woman, looking relieved, pulled out the final paperwork and began going over it with Bucky, smiling to see the boys had paid attention to their training and were handling their dogs well. “Now, Malakai is a trauma dog and Avenger an epilepsy dog,” she said as she pointed out where to sign.

Nodding his understanding, Bucky quickly signed where she pointed to; happy that the whole mess had been figured out. “And, they’re all ready to go?” He asked, looking at her as he signed the last line.

“Yes, they are.” She opened two separate folders and took out a set of documents from each, handing them over to Bucky. Kevin took the pile of documents for his adopted father. The woman nodded and put the signed papers next to the computer. “Everything’s all set. You’ve already paid your last fees, so the dogs are you family now. Remember, they’re pets and companions, but working animals, too, so respect them and let them work.”

“Of course,” Bucky nodded, giving her another smile.

“And both have been cleared for school admittance,” she nodded.

At the mention of school, TJ swallowed and looked down; Malakai shifted closer to his master and nuzzled at the tapping fingers.

Bucky glanced at TJ and Malakai and then back at the woman. “Good,” he nodded, “thank you . . . and good luck at your new job.”

She beamed happily. “Thank you, sir! I love working with the dogs and their new people. Good luck to you three . . . five . . . too.”

Kevin frowned. “Are there seatbelts for dogs, Papa?”

“I think there are, actually,” Bucky nodded, “I’ll have to look online when we get home . . . and we can order them for Avenger and Malakai.”

Nodding, Kevin and Avenger led the way back out to the car where Kevin got in the back seat with the dogs. Luckily Steve had invested in a larger vehicle than Bucky had originally driven, now they had three kids and had been expecting two service dogs. Steve had also spent the extra money to get the car designed specifically for a one-armed driver.

After everyone got situated, TJ sitting in the back with Kevin so he could be near Malakai, Bucky smoothly drove away from the kennel. Malakai continued to nuzzle at TJ’s hands, letting the anxious boy know he was there. Bucky glanced back in the rearview mirror at Kevin; he’d normally wait to discuss something like Kevin’s unreported seizures until they were alone but he didn’t know when that’d be.

Bucky’s phone rang. Knowing the ringtone was Becca’s, Bucky pulled over into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant and quickly picked up, wanting to talk with Becca anyway. “Becca?” Bucky greeted, his eyes continually flickering back to look at the boys.

“Hey, Bucky. It’s Becca. Just calling to check if the party’s still on?”

“‘Course it’s still on,” Bucky answered, “I think Ava’d have my head if I cancelled her sweet sixteen party.”

“She said you were upset this morning, something about Kevin having another seizure? He’s okay, right?” Becca sounded worried.

“He’s fine. Just got done with picking up TJ and Kevin’s service dogs, actually,” Bucky reported, pausing for a moment before saying, “speaking of Kevin’s seizures there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay, what do you need?’ his sister asked. “Need me to bring something for the party you forgot? Not the cake, I hope?” she chuckled.

Rolling his eyes, though she couldn’t see the expression, Bucky said, “no, Steve’s doin’ the cake, like he does every year. What I wanted to talk with you about is the fact you told Kevin to hide his seizures from us?”

“What? I never told Kevin any such thing!” Becca sounded stunned and even a little hurt. “Who told you I said that?”

“Ava,” Bucky said flatly, glancing back at Kevin in the mirror, “she told Steve and I that Kevin had a seizure while you were watching him and TJ for me when I was sick a few weeks ago? And that you told him to just write them down and not tell us?”

“That is not what happened!” Becca said, defensively. “Kevin had a seizure at the bookstore while I was watching him. I told him he should keep track of them and then he could show you if you weren’t there. He didn’t want to bother you about them because you were sick, so I told him with the diary, he could show you when you felt better and wouldn’t forget he had it. I would _never_ hide his seizures from you! Those can be life threatening!”

Sighing heavily, Bucky nodded, looking back at the boys again, TJ simply looking out the window as if he were used to waiting out an argument. “Okay . . . I’ll talk with him. Next time, Becca, can you tell me if he has a seizure while at the bookstore?”

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I should have said something. I really should have. But I thought he’d show you his journal of the seizures he’s been having. I didn't know he’d think I was telling him to _hide_ them!” Becca’s voice was troubled. “And . . . did you want to know that Ava’s been kissing a boy back behind the bookstore? Or did she tell you, like I told her she should?”

“She’s been _what_?” Bucky frowned fiercely, “who?”

“I think it was her boyfriend,” Becca sighed. “I didn’t really catch his face, there were customers.”

“Her boyfriend? When did she get a boyfriend?” Bucky sounded stunned. How much did he not know about his niece?

“I think by the end of school when summer began,” Becca said. “And Kevin’s mom came to see him at the store, too. Unsual lady with almost white-blonde hair, just like him.”

“Wait,” Bucky cut in sharply, “Kevin’s _mom_? When did this happen? That same week I was sick?”

“Of course, what else are we talking about? Ava was out back when the woman came in to see Kevin. I stayed close and she left after a few minutes.” Becca sounded distracted.

“Jesus, Becca,” Bucky cursed softly, “and you didn’t think to call Steve or I? Make sure she was okay to be around Kevin? You can’t just let strange people around our kids.”

“I figured you guys would have told me if she was a hazard to her own kid. You spent enough time keeping me from Ava until I was sane again!” she snapped. Then Becca sighed.

“Don’t go there,” Bucky’s voice was a low warning.

“I did say I was insane at the time, Bucky. I’m sorry. I should have asked. She didn’t get to see him. He was in the bathroom and she said she couldn’t wait long, so left. Never said if she was coming back, which was odd now I think of it.” Becca sounded contrite.

“You think?” Bucky sighed, shaking his head, “well, next time any strangers come to visit Steve and I’s kids can you please let us know? You know how . . . careful we are, Becca.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ll do better in the future. Hey, maybe you guys can write up a list of people these kids can see or maybe can’t see or whatever? Then I can check the list?” Becca paused then swore very softly. “Oh, damn. Gotta go, Bucky. I’ll be at the party. I promise!”

“Okay, see you there,” Bucky sighed and then hung up. TJ and Kevin had been taking up so much of his time in the summer and, with constantly filling in for shifts at the bookstore, Bucky knew he was neglecting his niece; there was obviously a lot he didn’t know about Ava’s life. After a moment, Bucky slipped his phone back in his pocket and looked back at the boys in the backseat. “Hey, sorry about that . . .”

“Papa, you have to pick up cream for your arm,” Kevin said, by way of reminder. He stroked Avenger’s fur, leaning into the big dog.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, he sighed again and started driving again, “hey, Tiger, did Ava tell you anything about her getting a boyfriend?”

“Nope, not a boyfriend. She’s got friends who are boys, she says.” Kevin sighed.

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, “I’ll talk with her tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin her birthday.” He pulled into the pharmacy parking lot and parked the car. Bucky slipped out of the driver’s seat and TJ followed suit, Malakai hopping out after him.

Kevin let Avenger from the car and shut the door, following the others into the store. He purposely avoided any of the aisles with glass in them, sticking to the wider aisles with toys or greeting cards.

Bucky walked up to the pharmacy counter, which was in the back of the store, and smiled at the woman, “hey, Jan, how’re you doin’?” Bucky came to this specific pharmacy a lot, having to pick up Steve’s, Kevin’s, and his medications as well as any other over the counter medical supplies that they often needed.

“Great, thanks.” Smiling, Jan said, “I see the boys finally got their service dogs.” She began ringing up the sale. “How’re Steve and Ava?”

“Oh, they’re good. Steve’s busy with his art and Ava’s birthday is today, actually,” Bucky glanced behind him, absently checking on the boys before looking back at Jan. “Oh, Steve said that Kevin’s new medicine should be in?”

Nodding, Jan smiled and went to retrieve Kevin’s new medications. “Right here, actually. Oh!” She took out a small brown bag. “Ava’s at the right age for needing guidance and advice. Here, give her this.”

Bucky took the bag and looked inside, blinking at the supplies inside. “Uh . . . she’s sixteen?” Bucky looked back at Jan.

“And that age group often explores sexually, or is curious at the least. Most of that is pamphlets to guide her.” Jan smiled. “You want her unafraid to talk to you, not hide what she’s doing, so you can guide and help her, Bucky. Giving her those may be uncomfortable and awkward, but it will let her know she can still come to you for her now more adult problems.”

“Yeah . . . okay,” Bucky nodded and closed the bag, frowning softly, “seems like just yesterday she was a little girl, ya know?”

“Yes, they grow up so fast, don’t they? Also, those supplies are different products for menstruation, but we can deal with birth control if you feel it is needed.” Jan rang up Kevin’s medicine, putting those in the larger bag for everything.

“Uh . . . I’ll talk it out with her and then we can discuss it with her doctor if that’s something she’s interested in,” Bucky paid for the medicine and took the bag from her, “thanks, Jan. See ya soon.”

“Tell Ava happy birthday from me!” Jan waved to the boys, “see ya, Kevin. TJ, sweetie.”

TJ gave the woman a small wave with his free hand, staying close to Bucky as the adult said his final goodbyes to their pharmacist. TJ’s eyes flickered to a couple nearby that were murmuring low, looking right at him. He ducked his head, fingers tapping, and Malakai seemed to shift closer to the boy.

Kevin seemed interested in a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy aisle and absently said, “bye, Jan.”

Bucky stuck close to TJ, tossing a quick glare to the rude couple. When they approached Kevin, Bucky saw what he was holding, “oh, a paint by numbers set? Haven’t seen one of those in a while.”

“It’s got two dogs on it that look like Avenger and Malakai, but they want Malakai to be grey and Avenger to be yellow,” Kevin sighed, starting to put the kit back.

“You don’t hafta stick to the colors that they tell you, it’s kinda like . . . guidelines, ya know?” Bucky offered Kevin a smile, shifted the prescription bag handles further up his arm, and reached out to grab the set again. He looked at it and offered Kevin another smile, “I bet Dad would love working on this with you.”

Kevin’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Really? You think Dad will help me?” Kevin smiled wide. “Can we get it, please, Papa? And maybe something for TJ, too?”

“Sure,” Bucky nodded, “can you hold it though for me?” He offered the set back to his adoptive son.

Instead, Kevin took the prescription bag off Bucky’s arm, grinning widely. “I can carry this, Papa.”

Nodding, Bucky said, “thanks, Tiger,” he looked over at TJ and asked, “you see anything you want, Teej?”

Chewing at his bottom lip, TJ looked down the toy aisle and shook his head, “don’t need anything, Bucky, thank you.”

Bucky knew that TJ hardly asked for anything, either feeling too uncomfortable now that he lived with them, or it was something he’d learned over the years while growing up a Hammond.

Kevin smiled and touched TJ’s hand. “It’s not that we _need_ the toy or paints, TJ. It makes Papa happy to give us small gifts sometimes.”

Glancing up again at the toys, TJ’s eyes caught on a _Rubik’s Cube_ , something he remembered Doug really liking but he hadn’t ever tried himself. He’d always thought they looked fun but Doug had constantly been playing with his, so TJ never got the chance. He let his eyes fall away quickly and shook his head again.

Kevin had noticed where TJ’s eyes had gone so picked up the cube and handed it to Bucky. He then hugged TJ tightly, still holding the bag by the handles. “You’re my best cousin, TJ.”

“Thanks . . .” TJ murmured, flushing slightly, “you’re a good cousin, too . . .”

Bucky smiled at the two boys, holding the painting set and the cube in one hand. “Alright, guys,” Bucky turned and walked towards the front of the store, “we should pay for these things and head back . . . people should be getting there by now.”

“What about your arm cream, Papa?” Kevin asked softly.

“Oh, right,” Bucky nodded, often having to be reminded of the small things ever since his accident. He detoured towards the creams, and TJ grabbed the one he saw Bucky often getting, the adult’s hand being full. Bucky gave the boy a grateful smile and then headed back towards the front.

At the front counter, there wasn’t any clerks which Bucky recognized, but a fresh-faced teen boy stood there. He gave Bucky a mediocre smile then noticed the dogs. “No pets in the store, please,” he said in a bored drone.

“They’re service dogs, they’re wearing their vests,” Bucky pointed out, giving the teen a small smile, putting the toys on the counter. TJ reached over Bucky and placed the cream on the counter as well.

“Right,” the teen nodded and began ringing up the purchase. Seeing the prescription bag Kevin held, he commented almost absently, “must be nice living off the state, huh?”

“Living off the state?” Bucky frowned softly.

He nodded, “the free clinic,” the teen commented, gesturing to the Maria Stark label.

“You do realize what the Maria Stark Clinic is for, yeah?” Bucky asked, offense in his tone.

“It’s a clinic run for people who are on welfare, of course. Did they get you the dogs, too? Expensive animals.” The teen rang up the cream, which seemed to be double the price of normal. “Need to see in the bag. Make sure it matches your receipt.”

Eyebrows raising, Bucky looked between the clerk and Kevin, before easing the bag from Kevin and letting the clerk look. “And you might want to do some research before you decide to look down on people.”

Kevin looked at Bucky. “Papa, I didn’t steal anything.”

“You’re bein’ a jerk,” TJ said to the cashier, Malakai sitting by TJ’s feet, looking up at the clerk.

Frowning at the twelve year old, the cashier said, coldly, “you carrying anything you need to put up here to buy, kid?”

Narrowing his eyes, TJ said, “already put it up there. Accusin’ me of stealin’, too?”

“TJ,” Bucky put his hand on TJ’s shoulder, trying to get the boy to calm down. TJ had some anger issues since the accident, very easily pushed to shouting.

Kevin hugged Avenger. “And neither dog stole anything, either, mister,” he said, some of TJ’s attitude having begun to rub off on the normally very friendly boy.

Rolling his eyes, the teen told Bucky the price of the toys and cream.

Deciding it wasn’t worth arguing with the teen, Bucky shook his head and paid without really looking at what had been rung up. He absently thought it was too much, but didn’t want to spend anymore time with the rude cashier. After the receipt printed, Bucky waited for several moments before asking, “can I have my receipt, please?” His tone was clipped and annoyed.

The teen glared at Bucky and handed the receipt to him, then slowly began putting things into a small bag. He frowned when the bag ripped and he had to switch to a larger bag to accommodate the paint set’s corners.

Bucky waited for the clerk to finish bagging the items again before taking the offered bag. “Thanks,” Bucky offered the man a forced smile, “you have a _great_ day.”

The teen just looked at Bucky and muttered something under his breath.

Taking and releasing a deep breath, Bucky turned and lead the boys towards the door.

TJ glared at the teen and said, “jerk,” again before turning to follow Bucky out.

Kevin sighed. “He thought we stole stuff, Papa.”

Nodding, Bucky sighed and handed the bag off to TJ so he could unlock the car. “Yeah, he was pretty rude, huh? If he’s like that the next time we go in, I’ll have to talk to Dianna about it.” Dianna was the store manager, a long-time friend of Bucky’s. “But, maybe he was having a bad day or something?”

“Will other people tell us to make the dogs leave, too?” Kevin worried, petting Avenger’s ears now they were back in the car and the dog was waiting for the next part of their excursion. He didn’t remind Bucky that they needed to stop to get the ice cream yet, but he would if his adoptive father forgot.

“No,” TJ grumbled, obviously still quite upset, “they got special vests so they can go in with us. That guy was jus’ being a jerk.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, “TJ’s right. Malakai and Avenger have special vests so they can go into places with you two. No one can ask them to leave, Kevin. If they do, you point at the vest Avenger is wearing and explain that he’s a service dog.” He began driving, towards home, obviously forgetting about the ice cream.

“Papa, Dad said you need to pick up the ice cream for the party. We didn’t have the right flavors?” Kevin reminded Bucky.

“Right,” Bucky nodded, “thanks, Kevin.” He turned the car around at the next light and began heading in the direction of the grocery store. It didn’t take long for them to make it to the market which sold Ava’s favorite flavor of ice cream. “Alright, last stop, then home, right?” He glanced at Kevin, knowing the boy remembered everything.

Kevin nodded, “if you remembered film for the camera and batteries, and maybe doggie supplies for Avenger and Malakai, and . . .” Kevin began listing things.

“Okay,” Bucky laughed, putting the car in park, “most those things we can get here. ‘Cept for maybe the film . . . but, I think Dad had some extras lying around. Really need to get a digital camera . . . even if your Dad thinks the film is better.”

Kevin nodded. “And can we get toys and doggie beds for when they aren’t working?” he asked, still thinking about the two dogs.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, getting out of the car. He waited for the two boys and their dogs to get out before heading towards the store. Luckily, the store wasn’t too crowded and none of the employees gave TJ or Kevin trouble for their service dogs. Bucky made sure to head for the ice cream first, knowing that was the main reason they’d come. He grabbed normal chocolate and vanilla, as well as Ava and TJ’s favorite flavor, strawberry. Putting the flavors in the cart, Bucky smiled at the boys, “wanna look at dog supplies?”

Kevin looked at the ice cream and grinned at Bucky. “How long before the ice cream melts, Papa?”

“We can look around for about half an hour. And then we’ll put them right in the freezer when we get home,” Bucky answered, smiling at his adoptive son. He looked over at TJ, “anything you need at home, Teej?”

TJ shook his head, “no . . . I don’t think so?” The twelve year old looked around as Bucky guided them away from the ice cream.

Kevin hugged TJ spontaneously, something he often did when he sensed the boy getting morose . . . at least more morose than he was typically since the deaths of his entire family. “I love you, Cousin TJ,” he said softly.

Blinking, the hug catching him off guard, like they always did, TJ slowly returned the embrace, “I love you, too, Kevin.”

Bucky let the two boys chat as they made it to the pet aisle. He grabbed the necessities such as food, but would let the boys pick out things like toys and treats for their companions.

Before Kevin could decide between the pink bed or the purple with swirls, a large shadow fell over the trio. A man’s somber voice said, “ah, James Rogers and his boys. My condolences on the loss in your family.”

TJ whirled around, jumping at the unexpected voice. Malakai instantly put himself between the very large man and his owner.

Looking over, Bucky said, “Mr. Fisk. Thank you for your kind words,” the brunet’s voice was a bit clipped. He didn’t like the large politician, but Steve was currently working on a commission for the man, so he tried to be polite.

Kevin hugged his dog, looking up at the very tall man standing over them. He swallowed and looked to Bucky, not a sound coming from the normally fearless, happy child. Grey eyes wide, Kevin actually hid his face in Avenger’s fur.

Mr. Fisk smiled almost sadly at the small family. “I see the boys are trying to adjust to the changes. Such well behaved children. You must be so proud of all you’ve accomplished.”

Bucky positioned himself slightly ahead of the two silent, scared-looking boys. “Yes, it’s been a rough couple months. But, we’re managing. And, yes, I am very proud of all my children.”

“Ah, yes, you have a little girl, too, don’t you?” Fisk smiled a bit wider. “Children are precious and should be tended well and carefully. They are the joy of our youth and the comfort of our old age.”

Nodding his agreement, giving the bigger man a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Bucky said, “yes, they are,” he paused for a moment before saying, “I have seen the painting that Steve is working on for you. It’s gorgeous.”

Nodding, Fisk continued smiling. “I have no doubt. Your husband does the most beautiful work.”

Behind Bucky, TJ’s eyes narrowed as if in thought and then it appeared that something clicked in his memory. “You’re that republican senator from New York . . .”

Delighted, Fisk nodded. “Very bright boy! Yes, I am. Senator Fisk.”

“You argued with my mom all the time,” TJ found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Nodding and looking appropriately sober, Fisk said, “yes. Your mother was a delight. A very keen mind, good with words. I already miss our debates.”

“She didn’t like you very much - -” TJ said.

Before TJ could continue that statement, Bucky cut in with another forced smile, “I’m sorry, Mr. Fisk . . .”

“Our ice cream is melting, Papa,” Kevin said, quietly.

Nodding, glad Kevin found an excuse for them to leave, Bucky said, “he’s right. I’m sorry, Mr. Fisk, but we must get going or else we’d have no ice cream . . . and we couldn’t have that.”

“No, that would be unthinkable at a birthday party. Tell your girl I said _‘happy birthday’_ ,” Mr. Fisk smiled and walked off, leaving the trio alone once more. Kevin lifted his face from Avenger’s fur.

TJ wrapped his free arm around Kevin, bringing the smaller boy closer, in a protective manner, “can we get goin’ now?”

Bucky nodded and ushered the boys towards the front so they could be checked out. Luckily, they had been able to get the necessities for the dogs before being interrupted by Fisk. They cashed out pretty fast and were heading back home within a few minutes.

“Don’t know about you guys,” Bucky said with a soft smile, “but I am ready to get back home.”

**************

Kevin led his dog from the car to their front door. He plugged in the security code and opened the door then turned to watch Bucky and TJ. Smiling, Kevin stepped out of the way to let TJ and Bucky past then followed his father in, closing and arming the door behind them. He took the vest off Avenger and put it on the hall table then unleashed him to run free. Avenger merely sat, watching Kevin expectantly as the boy put the leash on the hall table as well. Kevin watched as TJ also took off the leash and vest from Malakai.

Bucky walked into the kitchen where he could hear Sam, Riley and Steve talking. “Hey, Steve, we’re back,” he went over to kiss his husband and then smiled at the two other men, “hey, Sam, Riley, thanks for coming.”

Steve smiled and kissed him back just as enthusiastically as he had when Bucky left earlier. “How’s Kevin and Avenger and TJ and Malakai?” he asked.

“Doing pretty good. Kevin’s gotta get used to taking Avenger places, but that was a given,” Bucky reported.

“And poop scooping,” Clint said from the backdoor, laughing. He nodded and lifted his can of soda. “Welcome back to the party. Ava’s been worrying.”

“Has she?” Bucky frowned softly, looking up at Steve. After the accident, Ava hated for Bucky to get into any vehicle and would work herself up if he was gone longer than she’d expected.

Steve nodded, “but only just started, so just go out and say hello and she’ll be fine, love.”

Nodding, Bucky set down the bag on the counter and walked out to the backyard, “heya, Squirt! I’m back!”

From the pool, Ava beamed, looking utterly relieved, “good!”

Daniel looked up from where he stood behind Ava in the pool, a smile of apparent relief stretching over his face. “Told ya he’d be fine, Ava,” Daniel laughed softly.

“Shut it,” Ava splashed Daniel playfully, all signs of worry completely gone.

He laughed and ducked, splashing back. They were always together, Daniel and Ava, and yet it somehow was hard to imagine them sneaking into the alley behind the bookstore to make out.

Bucky nodded and smiled at Natasha, who was lounging in a chair, Clint’s dog, Pizza, sitting by her feet. Bucky headed back inside and plucked the bag off the counter, “just gonna put this stuff away.” He didn’t want to mess up Steve’s kitchen; Steve took a lot of pride in a clean kitchen.

Nodding, Steve reached for the bag. “I’m the one worrying today, remember? You go relax with Ava and Kevin.”

Looking up at Steve, Bucky lowered his voice, “Kevin had to remind me about the cream . . .” Bucky hated how forgetful he’d gotten after the accident . . . and he constantly feared the memory loss would get worse.

Nodding, Steve dropped a kiss on Bucky’s forehead. “Glad he remembered it or you’d have been miserable. I love you,” Steve dropped a kiss to the tip of Bucky’s nose.

“I love you, too, Steve,” Bucky smiled and looked at Riley, “how’s the clinic going?”

“Hopping,” Riley sighed. “But we’ve still got openings, so not to out max yet.Tony’s done amazing now that Pepper took over his financial and admin duties.”

“Yeah, well, paperwork was never Tony’s strong suit,” Bucky laughed and opened the fridge to grab a soda, letting the door close softly behind him.

Riley chuckled in response, “paper? Not unless you can make a computer out of paper. Tony’s a social butterfly. He does more for that clinic by drumming up donations and volunteers.”

Steve walked back in, a small frown on his worried face. “Buck? You looked at what your cream cost?”

Smile fading, Bucky looked at Steve, “uh - - no? Clerk was an asshole . . . so I didn’t pay much attention. Did the price go up?”

“No, he charged you for two tubs and I only saw one in the bag,” Steve answered.

Sighing, Bucky set down his can and pinched the bridge of his nose, “he was making comments about food stamps and how it must be nice to live off the state . . . I kinda went off on him . . .”

“We don’t live off the state or use food stamps. Where’d he get such a crazy idea?” Steve frowned.

“He made me show the receipt for the prescriptions . . . haven’t had to do that before . . . everyone knows me there, ya know? But this ass was new,” Bucky walked back to the living room, “I’m gonna go back, at least get the second cream he charged me for.”

Nodding, Steve sighed. He’d offer to go, but even after ten years of living with Bucky, he’d never gotten his license, only an official identification card. “Want to bring someone with you, Buck?”

“Sure, Clint! Up for a roadtrip?” Bucky called, grabbing his keys and the receipt from Steve.

“Shotgun!” Clint called happily and headed for the door. “Unless you actually want me to _drive_?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Bucky laughed.

“Okay, Mr. Doesn’t Matter,” Clint unsecured the door and led them out to the porch where he resecured the system after Bucky came out. He gave Bucky a grin and asked, “Steve didn’t tell me much, but he said the new law is that July no longer exists?”

“Yup,” Bucky grinned, heading towards his car, “that way Kevin doesn’t get older,” the brunet unlocked the car and walked over to his side and slid in. 

“And neither does Steve, you perv. You gonna keep him young and beautiful forever?” Clint laughed and belted himself into the front seat.

“Who wouldn’t want to keep looking at _that_ their whole life?” Bucky winked and grinned, starting the car and once more heading towards the pharmacy.

“And he mentioned Daniel and Ava broke rules this morning?” Clint turned serious in almost a heartbeat.

“Yeah, little punks were by themselves behind a closed door,” Bucky answered, shaking his head.

Frowning, Clint shook his head, “catch them doing anything, Buck?”

“Nah, Daniel was shuffling cards,” Bucky shrugged one shoulder.

Clint rolled his eyes. “I think he shuffles them in his sleep. His counselor back a few years told him he needed something always in his hands to play with so he can relieve stress. That’s what he chose.”

“Well, I plan to talk with Ava about . . . uh - -” Bucky flushed.

“Keeping the door open shouldn’t make you blush. You think they’re going further?” Clint looked worried.

“I think it’s a possibility, they’ve always been attached at the hip. Only a matter of time before it progresses . . . and Becca said something about them kissing in the alley behind the bookstore?” Bucky reported.

“What? When?” Clint leaned over and frowned fiercely, voice a low growl. “She never said anything to me about my kid cornering Ava in the alley.”

“Uh . . .” Bucky tried to remember when Becca had said she’d seen Ava kissing a boy behind the shop, “I don’t . . . know? Sorry . . . uh - - you can ask her when we get back?”

“You want me to ask Ava about kissing Daniel in the alley?” Clint leaned back and chuckled suddenly. “Only if you confront Daniel then!”

“What? No, I was talking about Becca,” Bucky said, “I mean, I’ll talk with Daniel if you want me to.”

Shrugging, Clint gestured towards their typical pharmacy. “Don’t drive right by!”

Huffing, Bucky turned into the parking lot, “I _wasn’t_.”

After parking and locking the car, Bucky led Clint into the pharmacy, the same cashier standing behind the front counter.

The man looked up and frowned. “Welcome to the pharmacy, sirs. Please let me know if I may be of service.” The words were perfunctory and respectful, but not overly welcoming.

Pulling out the receipt, Bucky walked over to the counter, “yeah, you charged me for two of the creams, on accident, I’m sure.” He handed the receipt over.

Taking the receipt with a frown, the man studied it and nodded. “Did you want your money back?” he sounded resigned rather than annoyed.

“Well, either that or I can just pick up another cream? I only got one,” Bucky stated, hoping the clerk wouldn’t have the same attitude as earlier.

“Okay, and you’re sure you didn’t drop a second cream or something?” he asked, but he didn’t sound challenging or suggestive. The question came out as more tired and wary.

“Nope. Only grabbed one from the shelf,” Bucky answered.

The man read the receipt again and plugged in the numbers to the register. He checked out some information then locked the machine and stepped from behind the counter. He walked down the aisle that held the creams. Checking the shelf, he began counting the creams and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, there’s probably a mistake. But the inventory says we should have three left on the shelf. We have three. That means that you received your cream. It’s not sitting here in excess of our inventory.” The clerk began going back to his cash register.

Bucky frowned and looked to Clint and then back to the clerk, “oh . . . but I really only did receive one. You bagged it, remember?”

“I bagged a paint kit, a toy cube, and one jar of cream,” he nodded and looked intently at Bucky. “And I’m sorry to have overcharged you, but our inventory matches what the receipt says. If there was one extra, it would match you into getting a second jar.”

“Well, can I get my money back, then?” Bucky asked, wondering if maybe he had grabbed two and dropped one and forgotten about it.

“I need to get manager’s approval to receipt money. If you’ll wait for a moment, I’ll get her.” The man once more locked his register and headed back to the pharmacy area to get his manager. It was like working with a different clerk from earlier. He wasn’t exactly friendly, but he was certainly polite in a neutral way.

Bucky rubbed his temple, the switch in personalities from the clerk confused him and he worried that he might’ve forgotten something else.

The manager, a long time friend of Bucky’s, walked out and smiled. “What’s up, James? Did he insult you again?”

“What? Oh, uh - - no . . . I think he accidentally charged two jars of the cream, but I only got one,” Bucky reported . . . if the manager had overheard or saw how the cashier acted earlier, that would explain the sudden change of attitude.

Nodding, she repeated the clerk’s action of checking inventory to verify they had the right amount of cream jars. However, unlike the clerk who checked the one SKU number, she checked the neighboring slots and found the missing jar. “Here it is. Did you want the cream or the money back, James?” She smiled warmly.

“The cream, please, gonna use it anyway,” Bucky smiled, relieved that he hadn’t forgotten grabbing another cream and dropping it.

Nodding, she headed to the counter and pulled out a bag without even offering it, a small one with a long, strong handle. She bagged it and offered it to Bucky. “Come again anytime, James. Sorry about the confusion. He’s still in training, but he will learn.”

“Thanks, and no problem. It’s okay,” Bucky smiled; unlike most customers who would’ve made a very big fuss over what had happened, Bucky was very understanding.

Softly, Bucky heard the man say, “I’m sorry if what I said earlier insulted you. It wasn’t meant that way. I didn’t think through my words.” He didn’t meet Bucky’s eyes, however, looking at the counter top, the register, the door, anywhere but Bucky.

“It’s alright,” Bucky nodded and smiled once more at the manager and then clerk, although the cashier wasn’t looking at him. He gestured to Clint, “c’mon, we’ve got a party to get back to.”

“Tell Ava happy sixteen from me,” the manager called after him and, as the pair walked away, she turned and sternly, but not meanly, to tell the new clerk that he had to check to see if the product had been slid behind something else before he hinted that it was stolen.

Bucky sighed as they made it back to the car, “thanks for coming with me, Clint.”

“Not a problem,” Clint grinned. “I love riding in cars.”

They drove back to the house and Bucky parked in the driveway again, a few more cars belonging to some of Ava’s friends had joined the others. As the pair walked up to the front door, they saw the sleek Jaguar that belongs to Lucky Odinson among the many vehicles. Bucky unlocked the house and let Clint step in first before following his friend in.


	3. Parties and Pleasures Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Seizures, Reference Grief and Loss, Anxiety, Sexual Activity**

Clint headed down the hall towards the kitchen, exclaiming, “smell food! Must eat!”

Chuckling, Bucky set down his keys by the door and went to hunt out Steve; he assumed the blond was probably in the kitchen.

Steve, loading yet another platter of food, talked congenially with Lucky, Thor, and Natasha. Becca stepped through the back door and frowned slightly when she saw Bucky.

“You look like shit, Bucky,” she fretted.

“Thanks,” Bucky grumbled, “nice to see you, too, Becca.”

“You’re pale, got bags under your eyes, and you left off your arm, not that I have to remind you about that.” Her frown grew larger. “Maybe you need to rest. Have you been taking your medicine properly?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky muttered, “I have been. And I get . . . rest - - just the last few nights have been a bit tough. Actually, these last few _months_ have been tough.”

“Nightmares? Panic attacks?” Becca reached out and brushed his hair from his eyes. “You need me to do anything, Bucky?”

“I’m fine, really, just the nerves in the shoulder acting up again, no big deal,” Bucky said quietly, so Steve wouldn’t overhear; he hadn’t told Steve about the pain in his shoulder and stump that had been keeping him up the last few nights . . . he didn’t want to worry his husband who had been so busy lately between commissions and the art gallery.

Steve looked over and frowned, handing the plate of food to Thor to bring outside. He walked over. “Buck? You’ve told Tony the nerves are acting up, right, love?”

Flushing, Bucky ducked his head and nodded, “uh . . . yeah . . . I told him at the last appointment . . .” The brunet wondered if Tony had said something to Steve or if the blond had simply just _known_ that was what had been bothering Bucky.

“Good. Want help putting on the cream?” Steve reached over to stroke Bucky’s right arm gently. He seemed unaware when Lucky smiled at Natasha and followed his brother out to the rest of the gathering party.

“Yeah . . . thanks, Steve,” Bucky gave his husband a sheepish smile and turned to walk into Steve's studio, that way they'd have a little privacy. Bucky was a lot better than he'd been six years ago, but he still didn't make a habit of removing his shirt in front of others . . . really, only Steve saw Bucky without a shirt.

His husband followed willingly, easing the bag from Bucky’s hand as they walked. When they got into the studio, he opened the jar and began swirling his fingers through the medicated cream. “Tony said he’ll work on making the arm lighter.”

“Yeah, that’ll be so much better . . .” Bucky said, pulling the shirt over his head and wincing as the fabric brushed over his raw skin.

“He said plastic would be lighter than metal, if you’d rather try switching over?” Steve began carefully massaging the cream into the stump, hoping the lidocaine would numb the pain quickly. He hated seeing his husband in any pain.

“But . . . would plastic break easier?” Bucky mused, looking down as Steve rubbed in the cream, sighing in relief as the medicated cream began numbing the area.

“He said the joints would be at risk,” Steve sighed as he worked.

Frowning, Bucky nodded, “I wish there was a lighter metal he could use . . .”

“There are, but he can’t access them. They’re military grade.” Steve carefully smoothed the cream on the underside of the stump, as well, recalling that first time they’d had to treat Bucky’s injury and the underside had been neglected. It had been miserable for his love.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just stick with the metal then . . . I already have enough issues with the joints . . . don’t need more. Oh! I told Kevin that I’d try and find a support group for kids with epilepsy . . . and I promised I’d go with him,” Bucky looked up at Steve. “We should look into seeing if there’s a support group for kid’s in TJ’s situation . . . if we could get him to go.”

Smiling, Steve bent to kiss his husband gently on the lips. “That’s a great idea! I wish we’d thought of it sooner. I’m sure Riley can suggest it. He’s good at getting people to try things. It’ll help for both of them to meet others in the same predicament. Did you find out about the seizures, baby?”

“Becca says she’s only seen a few and swore that she never told Kevin to hide them from us . . . that she had said to keep track and show us the diary when we weren’t busy . . . and to Kevin we must always look busy . . .” Bucky answered. “Oh,” the brunet sighed and said, “we ran into Fisk at the market . . .”

Steve stopped and frowned. “That sounds like a misunderstanding Kevin would make. Fisk at the market?” Steve wondered why that would be significant to a conversation about the boys. ‘I’m on schedule . . .”

“Uh . . . yeah,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, “Fisk didn’t really _seem_ offended but . . . TJ started talking with him. And you know, Aunt Elaine and Fisk fought tooth and nail in the Senate.”

“He must be giving some consideration to our boy’s grief, Bucky. Mr. Fisk is a very family-oriented man. He feels they are precious above most things.” Steve sighed. “But TJ started giving him sass?”

“I cut him off before he could get very far. I didn’t want him to work himself up again,” Bucky shook his head, “almost had an episode at the pharmacy . . . forgot to tell you about _that_.”

“Tell me,” Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“Well, I told you about the asshat cashier,” Bucky said, “but, of course, TJ got upset and called the guy out on it. Think he called him a _jerk_. Then, the cashier basically accused TJ of trying to steal.” Bucky rubbed at his eyes, looking more tired than anything else. “Between Malakai and me, we were able to keep him from getting too upset.”

“I’ll see how he’s doing,”Steve sighed, shaking his head. “And Kevin? He reacted okay? I think he’s been picking up some of TJ’s attitude, Buck.” Steve sounded worried.

Nodding his agreement, Bucky said, “yeah, I noticed that, too. Kevin gave the cashier a little lip, too, after TJ did. I don’t wanna separate them, Steve, TJ seems like he’s kinda attached to Kevin a bit. But, TJ’s attitude is definitely rubbing off.”

“Okay, we talk to Riley about the pair of them. See if we can help Kevin’s attitude rub off on TJ instead. So, anything about Ava I should know?” he teased, trying to lighten the conversation.

“Oh! Yeah,” Bucky nodded, sighing heavily, “Becca informed me that Ava has been kissing a boy, I assume Daniel, in the alley behind the bookshop,” Bucky stated with a soft frown, looking a bit worried.

“Now, that’s not acceptable,” Steve responded firmly. “We’ll have to find a way to address the problem without driving her into hiding it better. Stress how she needs to be careful, that if they love each other they can wait until after they graduate. We should talk to Nat and Clint, too, about talking to Daniel?”

“I already talked with Clint,” Bucky nodded, “and Jan, you know the pharmacist? She gave me some stuff from _Planned Parenthood_ ,” Bucky watched his husband, hoping that Steve wouldn’t be upset at him for accepting the bag of stuff. Because, whether they liked it or not, Ava might become sexually active and needed to know her options.

Nodding, Steve used his clean hand to draw his husband against him, fitting their bodies together. “Aren’t they the group that tries to encourage teens to think about all their options, like the pill and condoms and stuff?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“I hear they have counselors, too? Maybe she’d like to talk to someone not related? They have rules against telling the parents unless someone’s in danger, so she can feel like she won’t have them tattling on her . . .” Steve sighed, thankful that there were ways to reach the growing young woman without shutting her down completely.

“We’ll talk to her about it. Not today, but sometime this week. What’s your schedule look like? Any travel or anything?” Bucky asked; Steve often had to travel for clients and whatnot.

Steve smiled and nuzzled Bucky’s neck. “Only the commission for Sunrise and I’ve got it half done now. The light this morning was amazing!” He kissed where he’d nuzzled. “Other than that, the normal work schedule at the gallery. I haven’t got any planned trips or even other commissions. A dry spell, I think.” Steve didn’t regret the small break so he’d have more time with his family. Truth be told, his art made enough that they would be comfortable if he only took one or two commissions a year, but Steve, true to his long ago promise, put most of the money away in trust for the kids and their future retirement. Other than the one really extravagant Disney trip four years before, they lived modestly for all Steve’s wealth.

“Then we should take the kids out sometime this week, we need to get stuff for school,” Bucky mused, “Ava’s gotten taller, her pants were getting a little short.” Sighing again, Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, “and shopping with TJ may take all day. It’s hard to get him to admit he needs or wants anything.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll see how he reacts with all of us there. It’s been awhile since we all had a day of mindless nothing to do as a family.” Steve worried that Kevin hadn’t put on much weight or height in the last year; the boy was so delicate and small. And TJ seemed to be _losing_ weight, not eating like he had before the accident that took his family.

“And, I’ll make your’s and Kevin’s appointments with Bruce on Monday, hopefully he has a few openings this week,” Bucky nodded, “Kevin still hasn’t gotten much bigger, maybe Bruce can run a few tests, make sure everything is okay.”

“Or maybe he got my genes in abundance and he’ll be small and skinny until college?” Steve sighed, knowing just what torments high school would hold for a boy that could easily be shoved into even the fullest instrument locker. “Is Kevin still nervous about school since he’s gotten Avenger today?”

“Yeah . . . he had a bit of a breakdown,” Bucky ran his hand down his face; Becca had been right, he _did_ look exhausted, “saying that with Avenger everyone will know he’s sick and that he doesn’t want to be sick anymore.”

“I remember feeling like that in school because of my asthma attacks. Remember how many times the ambulance had to take me from school to the hospital? I swear, it got to the point that if anyone called emergency from the school, they automatically pulled up _my_ chart.” Steve sighed.

“I told him, if he was really scared and really didn’t want to go that we’d consider homeschooling him for another year . . . but, I asked him to think really hard before committing one way or another,” Bucky admitted. “I hope that with TJ, they’ll be able to help each other out, ya know? I just hope TJ’s able to keep his grades up.” It was obvious with the upcoming school year that Bucky’s anxiety was rising again.

Sighing again, Steve nodded, “at this rate, they’ll be home schooled through high school and have to get a GED.” He shook his head and kissed Bucky’s good shoulder. “Maybe I should tell them both about my own school, but I was tormented . . . I don’t want to scare Kevin, and I would like TJ to try to have normal relationships again.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’d help . . . it’d just convince them to stay home . . . I don’t know, Steve . . . Kevin’s so damn fragile and sensitive . . . I worry,” Bucky frowned, concern evident on his face.

Steve had to agree with his husband’s assessment of their boy. “But he’s so sweet . . . I’d hate him to change, Buck.”

“Oh!” Bucky looked up at Steve, “almost forgot to mention, I guess some woman with platinum blond hair came to the store while I was at the bank last week . . . uh - - she told Kevin that she was his mother?”

A swift frown crossed Steve’s face and he shook his head. “Some stranger accosted Kevin? My God, I hope he didn't’ fall for that!”

“Uh - - and Becca may have told him that because his mother never got a choice that she will be able to take Kevin away at any time . . . and he was confused about whether you were his biological father or not . . .” Bucky watched Steve closely, knowing that Steve never really trusted Becca.

Steve frowned further. He’d never wanted Becca to work in the gallery, worried she’d be hazardous, even inadvertently, to their kids, who spent so much time at the bookstore. “Did Becca let the woman alone with Kevin?” he asked slowly, voice a warning.

“She said the woman never saw Kevin. He was in the bathroom and the woman couldn’t wait long,” Bucky answered honestly.

“Buck, we need to stress to Becca that if she’s watching the kids, she can’t let people near them. Kevin’s a very pretty little boy . . . tempting to sex traffickers and perverts.” It was one of his biggest nightmares: that Kevin would be sold yet again into the sex trade Riley had managed to rescue him from at the obscenely young age of five.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky’s eyes widened, “you think someone might take him from the bookstore?”

“Yeah,” Steve met his eyes, serious, “I do, actually. Especially if no one’s paying close attention. Natasha and Clint won’t let it happen, they know his past and how sick some people can be.” He didn’t add that Becca might not be so responsible or aware.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, “God, sometimes I think it’d just be best to keep him at home, where I can keep an eye on him.”

“But you’re not always at home, Bucky. You work, too.” Steve sighed. Most of his own time was spent either in his studio or his gallery, but he would adjust in a heartbeat if it meant protecting his little family.

“Well, I’d take him to work with me,” Bucky added, “he likes it at the bookstore . . .”

Shaking his head, Steve said, “and that’s exactly what we have been doing already.”

“God,” Bucky mumbled, leaning his forehead against Steve’s firm chest.

“If someone can take me from the store, can they take me from school, too?” Kevin’s soft voice broke through the tense stillness.

Head snapping up, Bucky looked at the doorway, “Kevin! You . . . we’ve talked about watching from the doorway!” Kevin had always been such a quiet boy and had made of habit of overhearing conversations.

“Shit,” Steve looked over, his frown turning from one of frustration to one of intense worry.

“I would’ve come in, but you were talking, and Aunt Natasha said she wanted you to come out since Ava wants to open her presents _before_ eating cake.” Kevin didn’t answer to the charge of his habitual eavesdropping.

Sighing, Bucky nodded and stepped back from Steve, pulling on his shirt. He looked worried, knowing that from what Kevin had overheard, it’d be really hard to convince the boy to go to public school.

Steve shook his head, “you should have knocked anyway, to let us know you were there. You know you’re not allowed to do that, Kevin. Listening to private conversations is a breach of trust and respect.”

“But it was about me,” Kevin replied, looking down at the floor.

Bucky looked at Steve and then at Kevin, “yeah, it was, but as your parents we sometimes need to talk about you . . . and we’ve talked to you about listening at the doorway several times. Your Dad and I need to know that we can have grown-up talks without being overheard, because grown-up talks aren’t meant for little boys, right?”

Kevin’s eyes glazed over and he recited, almost in monotone, “ _‘I’ve been bad and keeping secrets and that’s what caused this mess, Ava. So, I thought I should tell those secrets and promise not to keep big secrets like this any more.’_ ” He then looked back at his fathers. “This sounds like one of those secrets . . . about someone wanting to steal me.”

Sighing, Bucky rubbed his face; he’d suspected that Kevin had an exceptional memory, but being able to recite words Steve said _six years ago_ , word for word, proved that the boy may have an eidetic memory. “Kevin, Dad and I would tell you if you needed to know. Now, no more listening in on private conversations, is that clear?”

Steve added, “and give us the respect of deciding _how_ to tell you, Kevin. Just because we have something to tell, doesn’t mean we don’t want to talk it out before we tell you. There are somethings you don’t need to hear that way. We want your promise not to eavesdrop on us anymore.”

Tears welled in Kevin’s large grey eyes and he bit at his trembling lower lip. “I don’t know,” he whimpered. “If I don’t listen then I won’t know when to hide in the closet.”

Bucky shook his head, “you don’t need to hide in the closet, Kevin, _ever_. Do you trust your Dad and me?”

“Yes . . .” he said on a whisper, sounding like he wanted to hide right then.

“And do you trust that your Dad and I will keep you safe?” Bucky pushed.

“No,” Kevin answered honestly, hanging his head.

Pure shock crossed Steve’s face. “What? Why?”

Bucky felt his heart drop; hearing that their son didn’t trust them to keep him safe honestly broke his heart. He had no idea why Kevin wouldn’t feel safe with them.

“Because you aren’t always near me, Dad,” Kevin whispered.

Frowning, Bucky didn’t know what to say, because there were numerous times that neither Steve or he were with Kevin . . . and Bucky didn’t know how to fix that. Without quitting his job and staying home with Kevin every single day, there would be no way to be with the boy all the time.

“But that’s one of the reasons we got Avenger, Kevin. So when we aren’t with you you still have someone to keep you safe.” Steve’s quick mind latched onto one thing he could try to point out as a safety measure. Avenger could do a lot more for Kevin then merely sense when he might have a seizure. After all, if Kevin feared this much he was on the way to become a childhood recluse, and that was never good. It was more clear than ever that Kevin needed to start going to school with other kids.

The boy looked at the dog sitting obediently by his side. Even off leash and without vest, the dog stuck with Kevin. “So . . . if Avenger goes with me, he can stop someone from stealing me? I don’t wanna be sold again.” Kevin looked up, the tears falling. “It hurts when those guys buy me, Dad!”

Steve let go of Bucky to stride over to his son and pull him into a tight embrace. He lifted his own intense blue eyes to meet Bucky’s, misery on his face mixed with helplessness.

Bucky looked just as helpless and miserable, “no one is going to buy you, okay, Kevin. You’re our son.”

Avenger let out a soft _woof_ and nudged Kevin’s back. Steve looked down at the large Shepherd. “And Avenger will protect you, Kevin. That’s what he’s here for, to help you no matter what.” He was seriously wishing he could just keep Kevin locked protectively away, but knew it wouldn’t be practical or healthy. It had been a few years coming, and Steve had fervently hoped Kevin had forgotten most of the trauma, but apparently, that wasn’t the case; the family was being forced to deal with what happened years ago. Once more, Brock’s actions and selfish cruelty reared it’s ugly head. “Kevin, baby, can you sit down and breathe for me?” Steve eased Kevin to the floor.

The little boy let himself be manipulated. He wiped at his eyes and leaned onto the closest sturdy surface: Avenger’s warm furry body. As Steve squatted down in front of his son, he gently asked, “why don’t you tell us about the lady from the store last week? The one who said she was your Mom?”

Kevin sniffled and nodded. “Aunt Becca said she walked in with a paper in her hand and saw me reading at the table. She asked if I’m Kevin Rogers.” Kevin looked up. “So Aunt Becca told her yes. And she said she was my real Mommy and wanted me to come home. Aunt Becca told her to leave the store and come back when one of you were there. She left. I was in the bathroom when she left.” Sometimes the eleven year old sounded like the seven or eight year old he resembled.

Relief at the show of Becca’s responsibility crossed Steve’s face. At least that was something positive. “And did she come back again?” he prompted gently, reaching out to stroke the boy’s platinum hair.

“I didn’t see her, Dad,” Kevin’s sobs had quieted as quickly as they usually did. “I don’t know if she came back.”

Steve looked to his husband.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “did she tell Becca her name, Kevin?”

Nodding, the boy said, “She said it was Crystal.”

Stiffening, Steve blinked slowly, recalling over the years that the woman he suspected as Kevin’s mother was called Crystal by Brock . . . a fact he’d told Bucky when he’d let his then boyfriend know he’d been made to sleep with women on Brock’s command.

Bucky frowned, the name sounding so familiar but he couldn’t place it . . . like a memory that was just on the edge of his mind, too far away to grasp, showing that the memory loss from his car accident wasn’t just recent memories but also long-term as well.

A knock on the open art studio door brought all their attention to see Daniel standing there. “Um, Kevin was sent in to get you guys for presents? It’s been awhile. Everything okay? He didn’t have another seizure or something, right?” The teenager looked down at the boy who’d obviously been recently crying.

“We were just coming out,” Bucky stated with a half smile.

Steve smiled and rose, helping Kevin to his feet. “No seizure, just parent-son time. Thanks, Daniel.”

Nodding, the auburn-haired boy shrugged and walked out. “I’ll let them know that they can eat another round of Dad’s burnt burgers then.”

“Thanks,” Bucky nodded, still trying to remember who Crystal had been . . . where he’d heard that name.

“Go on ahead of us Kevin. Wash your face and take Avenger outside. We’ll be right there,” Steve instructed, recognizing the confusion in Bucky’s eyes. The boy left with his dog and Steve turned to his husband. “Buck? What’s wrong?”

“Crystal . . . you’ve - - you’ve told me about her, right?” Bucky looked at Steve.

“Once, yeah,” Steve confirmed and pulled Bucky into his arms. “When I told you how Brock used to force me to sleep with his guests, women included. Crystal was the one that got pregnant, the one who’s probably Kevin’s mother.”

“Oh, right,” Bucky nodded, “sorry . . . I forgot . . .”

“I only mentioned it once, Bucky. That’s easy to forget.” He stroked his husband’s cheek. “I bet it’s not even accident related that you forgot.” Steve offered a gentle smile to the leaner man.

“You’re probably right,” Bucky nodded, though he didn’t look fully convinced, “I’ll . . . I can call Matt and Foggy on Monday? See what they say about all this.”

“You can talk to them right now, if you want, Buck. They showed up while you were at the pharmacy with Clint.” Steve shifted so he was protectively on Bucky’s left side, not pressing against the injured stump. He began walking his husband from the art studio.

“After presents and cake, then,” Bucky nodded.

“And if you forget in all the fun, I’ll remind you,” Steve promised gently. He kissed Bucky’s temple. “As long as you don’t forget how much I love you.”

Turning a grin on Steve, Bucky leaned up to quickly kiss his husband’s lips, “pretty sure that’s hardwired.”

“Good, because I don’t want anyone else turning your pretty head and luring you away from a wreck like me,” Steve chuckled, though, taking the drama from the joke. “Oh, look,” he called loudly as they walked into the yard, “I see a birthday girl and a mound of presents staring eagerly at each other!”

“Finally!” Ava huffed playfully. 

Keeping up with the joking, Steve said, “aw, c’mon, princess, I gotta be able to make sweet love with my husband sometime . . . and you guys were all out here . . .”

Kevin snickered softly.

Ava scrunched her nose, shaking her head, “ew. I really don’t need to know that.”

Murmuring privately to Bucky, Steve said, “I sure hope sex is an _‘ew’_ to her for awhile yet.”

Snorting softly, Bucky nodded his agreement.

After everyone had settled down, as Ava reached for her first present, Shadow suddenly jumped up and scattered some of the lighter ones with her pounce, knocking at least three onto the ground. Ava laughed and watched the cat scurry away. Daniel darted after the cat and deftly snagged her; he carried her inside and locked her into the kitchen. TJ stayed near the edge of the crowd, Malakai sitting faithfully near his owner; it was obvious the boy was trying very hard to put on a happy front, not wanting to ruin Ava’s birthday.

Ava began to open her presents, thanking each person the present she opened was from.

When she got through the pile, the presents from Daniel and Kevin were missing, and Steve frowned as well, signaling she’d missed one from him and Bucky, too. “Wait, there’s something missing,” he said and started rooting through the unwrapped gifts.

Kevin knelt down and collected the three Shadow had knocked on the ground. “Yeah, these . . . hope nothing’s broke.” He passed them up to his cousin and adopted sister, Ava.

“Thanks, Kevin,” she grinned and took the presents, opening the one from Daniel first. It was a set of three CD’s from a music group they enjoyed together. She squealed and hugged her best friend tightly, “thank you so much, Daniel! These are awesome!”

He flushed happily. “Yeah, I know you wanted them.” he gave her a quick hug back.

“I did! Thank you!” Ava let go and then moved on to the present from Kevin. When the paper came away, a rolled scroll of paper wrapped in a soft lilac ribbon was exposed. Unrolling the paper, Ava gasped at a hand drawn picture of Shadow, colored in with professional carbon pencils, “Oh, Kevin! Thank you!” She moved over to hug the boy tightly.

He smiled and hugged her back. “I wanted to frame it, but I ran outta allowance after buying the pencils and parchment. That's real parchment, Ava. And TJ helped me with the colors and fur.”

“I love it, thank you so much!” Ava hugged again and grinned at the picture, “it’s beautiful!”

“I think I messed up the tail,” Kevin softly commented, critically looking at the beautiful rendition of the six year old feline.

When Ava moved on to Steve and Bucky’s gift, a smaller box, she opened it and her eyes widened. “Oh . . .” she carefully pulled out a heart shaped necklace with her birthstone sparkling beautifully in the silver. She looked up at Steve and Bucky, mouth dropped open slightly, eyes still wide.

Steve smiled. “It’s a locket, princess.”

Looking back down, she opened the locket and gasped at the sight of the handsome young man displayed on one side and an equally young picture of Becca on the other: her parents on their wedding.

Standing up, Ava rushed over and hugged both Steve and Bucky, “thank you! It's so pretty!” She sounded like she may be holding back tears as she buried her face in Steve's chest.

Steve wrapped his arms around the tall teenager and smiled, dropping a tender kiss to the top of her head. “You’re welcome, Ava. It was your uncle’s idea. But, Ava,” he used one gentle hand to lift her chin, “this is not children’s jewelry. It is the real thing. Something to take care of. We’ll show you how to care for the silver so it doesn’t tarnish.” He kissed her forehead. “Happy birthday, princess.” He passed her to the waiting embrace of her uncle.

Bucky wrapped her in an one armed hug, kissing the top of her head. “I'm glad you like it, Squirt. I love you very, very much.”

Looking up at her uncle, her eyes glistening with tears, Ava hugged him tightly, “I love you, Uncle Bucky. Thank you . . . I - - I just love you . . .”

It took a few minutes after all the torn wrapping paper and presents being put inside for Ava to notice she hadn't received anything from her mother and Becca wasn't looking for any missing presents like Steve had done. Ava had been raised well and wasn't about to throw a temper tantrum over not getting a gift from somebody. She was surprised, and to be honest, a little disappointed that her mother hadn’t gotten her anything for her sixteenth birthday. Becca had always got Ava _something_ for Christmas and her birthday, even if the gifts had been small they usually were very thoughtful.

After the guests were served cake and began chatting with one another, Becca walked over to Ava and asked, softly, “can I see you in the kitchen, Ava?” She sounded nervous.

“Sure,” Ava nodded and slipped from the table to follow her mother back into the house and into the kitchen.

Becca stepped over to the kitchen island and reached behind it to pull out a large cardboard box which wasn’t wrapped and sloppily taped with scotch tape that seemed about to burst open. Becca flushed. “I was working and didn’t get to wrap it . . .”

Smiling, Ava took the box from Becca and set it on the counter, the box was very heavy, “that’s okay, don’t worry about that,” Ava carefully began to open the package, wondering what could be in it that would make her mother so nervous.

Nodding, Becca watched intently, seeming like she wanted to cry, scream, and hide all at the same time.

Ava opened the box and pulled out two very heavy, large photo albums. Each page contained one photograph of her father, as a child, teenager, or young adult, sometimes by himself, sometimes in groups. On the facing page was a typed one page description of the event, _‘signed’_ by the author, different members of Hank's family, with some done by Becca. The collection would have been hard for Becca to get the info and pictures, since Hank's family would have trouble talking to their Hank's widow. She must have worked for actual years to get these for Ava's gift, which meant she had planned it for a _very_ long time.

Looking at Becca, eyes wide with shock, Ava looked back down at the albums, “Mom . . . these are . . .”

“Well, as a young woman, you should have something that not only shows you are becoming a responsible adult, but something to link you to your past. I couldn’t think of anything . . . and couldn’t afford it if I wanted to. But, once I was discharged and started working at the studio, I realized that your Daddy would never be able to do anything for all your special days. So, I thought I’d give you your Daddy? As best I can . . .” Becca hugged herself.

Putting down the albums carefully, Ava rushed over to her mother and hugged her tightly, “thank you . . .”

“I’m glad you’re happy with Uncle Bucky, and he adopted you so you’ll be safe. But . . . I don’t want you to ever forget your Daddy.” Becca hugged her back, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Tears also trailing down her face, Ava buried her face in her mother’s neck, “I would never forget him, Mom, never.”

“But you never really knew him,” Becca said softly. “So, with these stories, maybe you can get to know him a little?” Becca rarely spoke about her beloved husband who’d died in a fire when her daughter was a toddler. “He was so special, so good . . .” Becca finally broke down.

Hugging her mother tighter, Ava nodded, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you so much, baby,” Becca sobbed softly. “You look so much like him.”

Ava didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything, just continued to hold her mother tightly, crying softly.

A soft knock on the back door alerted the pair that someone was going to intrude. In this case it was Riley, a friend of the family and therapy nurse for the Maria Stark Clinic. He smiled softly. “Sorry, but we ran out of drinks and there’s been a call for pictures, which means birthday girl.”

Nodding, Ava pulled back and wiped at her eyes, giving Becca a smile.

Becca nodded and grabbed some _Kleenex_. “I’ll be right out, baby. Go have fun.”

Ava gave her mother one last smile before turning and walking back out with Riley.

Steve offered Ava a smile from beside the table of presents. “Everything okay, princess?”

“Yeah,” Ava nodded, “everything’s good. Mom gave me her present.”

“Looks like a tear jerker?” he asked softly, his voice gentling. He had often seen Becca looking at photographs over the years and crying, and he wondered if that had affected what Becca chose to give her daughter. He thought so, since she’d been the one to provide them with the wedding photos for the locket.

“Yeah, she made me two photo albums with different stories and pictures about my dad,” Ava answered.

Looking behind Ava, Steve offered Bucky a smile. “Buck? Hear what Becca gave Ava? I think she trumped us all for good gifts.”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, Becca has been working on those photo albums for ages.” He’d known what Becca had been planning on giving Ava; he’d even helped her get in contact with a few of Hank’s family members.

“Maybe you can take me through them later on, princess?” Steve asked. “I never met your father.”

“I’d like that,” Ava nodded, giving Steve a small smile. “From some of the stories in the album . . . it sounds like you two would’ve gotten along.”

“I’m sure I would have. Firefighters are real heroes.” He reached over and gave her a one-armed hug. “Ready for the obligatory pictures?”

Ava nodded, “yeah,” she wiped at her eyes one last time; most of the redness had already gone away.

They took pictures with various guests until Becca came back out and joined in, getting caught in a couple of shots herself. Games and some late afternoon swimming finished off the party and eventually people started leaving for home. Everyone seemed to have had a great time.

Once the last guest left, Bucky locked and secured the door after them. He turned back to the living room, and like after any party, the house was a bit messy. Bucky walked over to the coffee table and stacked a few cups into one another and carried them into the kitchen. Steve and TJ began cleaning up the picnic area outside, bringing in discarded trash and dishes. Kevin began rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher as they were brought to him. Ava helped her uncle clear out the living room and put away any leftover food. Between the five of them, they managed to get the house fairly cleared, enough that even Steve was willing to leave the rest for morning.

Bucky collapsed onto the couch with a breath of relief. He loved seeing everybody and was very happy that Ava had a good time, but he was tired and the quiet house was a huge relief.

Steve smiled at Ava. “So, was it a good day, princess?”

Grinning, Ava nodded, “yes! It was great! Thank you both for throwing a party for me!”

Laughing, Steve nodded. “Well, I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t get a sweet sixteen party, Ava. It’s not like you’ve been a terror, and you deserve a nice coming of age party. Of course, nowadays, coming of age is twenty-one, but old habits, right?”

Ava nodded and looked at Steve, “would it be okay if I go listen to the CD’s Daniel got me?”

“I don’t see why you can’t, Ava. Buck?” Steve stretched out next to Bucky.

Humming, Bucky turned tired eyes to his niece, “yeah, that’s fine by me.”

Kevin walked into the room with Avenger. The dog let out a low growling turning into a strange sounding yip. He pushed in front of Kevin, forcing him against the doorjamb. Kevin looked confused as the dog pushed into him, but then the boy’s eyes rolled back and he fell over the dog, the strong canine easily holding up the delicate child.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, quickly getting off the couch and hurrying over to his adoptive son.

Steve rose to his feet and joined them, helping Bucky to ease Kevin to the floor and loosen his jeans. The dog stepped from foot to foot and made that odd yip again but sat back and watched intently. TJ stayed back in the living room, watching with wide eyes, not quite used to the seizures like everyone else in the family.

As Bucky worked, Steve could hear him quietly counting the seconds that passed as Kevin convulsed.

Finally, the seizure ended and Avenger gave a solid woof. He thumped his tail on the floor. Kevin seemed far more dazed then they typically saw, and he smelled like he needed a change of clothes. At almost a three full minutes, this episode had been one of his worst.

“There he is,” Bucky cooed gently, running his fingers through Kevin’s hair.

Steve looked up at Ava. “Can you get some clothes for Kevin and put them in the bathroom, princess? And run a warm bath for him?”

Ava nodded and rushed up the stairs to complete her given tasks.

The larger blond carefully scooped up the smaller and rose to his feet. “I’ve got you, Kevin. It’s okay.” His eyes met Bucky’s and Steve frowned. That had been two seizures in one day.

Sighing, looking very worried, Bucky clumsily got to his feet and asked, “should we take him to the clinic?”

“We should call Bruce and find out. Do you want to bathe him or to call Bruce?” Steve carried their son up the steps and into the bathroom, Kevin beginning to rouse just a bit, though he looked drowsy and confused.

“I’ll call,” Bucky stated, already pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. The brunet turned into the master bedroom and then quickly dialed Bruce’s number. The doctor explained that unless Kevin was bleeding or having trouble breathing that they could wait until the next day to bring Kevin in, but that if Kevin had another seizure to bring him in right away.

A soft whimper sounded next to Bucky’s hip and Avenger looked up at him with large, worried looking brown eyes.

Sighing, Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hand, taking several deep breaths. He had to calm down before checking on Kevin. The dog nuzzled at Bucky’s knee and let out another whimper. Looking at the dog, Bucky muttered, “yeah, I’m worried about him, too.”

After several more moments, Bucky finally felt calm enough to go check on Kevin.

Steve carefully tended to Kevin, who had been placed in the tub after he’d been cleaned up a bit. Steve washed his son’s back, holding him up with a strong arm. Looking up at Bucky, he softly asked, “did you get ahold of Bruce?”

Nodding, Bucky answered, “he said as long as Kevin is breathing fine and isn’t bleeding then he should rest here and we can bring him in, in the morning.”

Sighing in some relief, Steve asked, “are _you_ okay, Bucky, love?” He began carefully washing his son’s hair while Kevin sat passively, and drooping, against Steve’s chest.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, he walked over and sat down on the closed toilet.

“Do you still have Kevin’s journal about his seizures? I want to see if he’s had a double before today,” Steve began rinsing the short soft blond locks.

Blinking, Bucky tried to remember the last place he’d seen the diary . . . he was pretty sure he’d given it back to Kevin while they were in the car. “I - - uh . . . I can check the car? That's the last place I remember seeing it . . .”

“Would you mind?” asked Steve.

“No,” Bucky rose and headed towards the door.

“Seat . . .” Kevin muttered and turned his head into Steve’s wet shirt.

“Thanks, Tiger,” Bucky called and hurried down the stairs, noting that TJ sat on the couch, back straight and fingers anxiously tapping, Malakai resting his head on TJ’s lap, nuzzling and bumping his fingers. Bucky quickly unlocked the door and punched in the code to get out. He jogged over to the car and opened the passenger side door, it took him a few minutes to find the diary tucked under the seat due to the darkness of night.

He rushed back into the home, barely remembering to lock the door behind him, and back up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Looking up, Steve smiled in relief. He stood Kevin up, letting him lean, and began drying him off. “Thanks, Buck. Can you look to see if there’s mention of two in one day?”

After skimming through the entries, Bucky shook his head, “no other doubles. One to two a week but never two in a day.”

Nodding, Steve looked relieved. “Thanks, Bucky. You doing a bit better, Kevin baby?” Steve helped the boy from the tub and lifted him in strong arms, carrying the child out to his own small bedroom, neat as anything Steve would have cleaned. Steve lay Kevin on the bed and began drying his feet and legs as Avenger walked in and whimpered in worry. Looking down at Avenger, Steve reached over and stroked his ears. “Good boy, Avenger. You did a good job, boy!”

Avenger thumped his tail, tongue lolling as he panted lightly.

Finally, Steve tucked the boy into bed and added information to Kevin’s already started journal, writing in both episodes from that day. Checking on his son again, noting Kevin rested comfortably, Steve got up and went to his husband.

Bucky was in the hall, leaning against the wall; if anything he looked paler and more tired than he had before.

“Kevin fell asleep, Buck.” He sighed, “Let’s check on TJ real quick.”

“He was sitting on the couch when I went to check the car,” Bucky nodded, pushing off the wall and running a hand through his hair.

Nodding, Steve turned towards the stairs and went down to the living room. Peeking inside, he tried to see TJ in the dark. “Teej, honey?”

“Yeah?” TJ called back, sounding as if he were still on the couch.

“Are you okay?” Steve walked to the boy, touching his curls gently.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” TJ answered promptly, looking up at Steve, “I think I’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Okay,” Steve didn’t argue with the boy. Instead he took a throw blanket and tucked it over TJ. “If you feel better in here, that’s fine, Teej. How’s Malakai?”

Shifting on the couch until he was lying down, head on one of the pillows, TJ let his arm hang over so he was petting the dog’s head. “He seems good? Is . . .” TJ’s voice took on a edge of worry, “is it okay if I turn on the TV?”

“Sure is. Summer, remember? No bedtime.” Steve kissed TJ’s forehead and smiled. “Try to get a little sleep at least. Call if you need something.”

Bucky bent over to pick up the television remote from the coffee table; he turned on the TV and then handed the remote to TJ with a soft smile. He ran his fingers through the boy’s curls and kissed his forehead. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, “I heard Siberian Huskies are notorious nightmare eaters.”

TJ’s lips twitched into a small smile and he nodded, “thanks, Bucky, Steve. Goodnight.”

“Any time, TJ. Relax and enjoy your night.” Steve stroked Malakai’s ears. “Good boy.”

“Night, Teej,” Bucky straightened fully and turned to look at Steve.

“Let’s go to bed?” Steve took Bucky’s arm carefully and smiled down at his tired lover.

Bucky nodded and let Steve lead them into their bedroom. His shoulder and remainder of his left arm had begun to ache again with the long day and stress of the last hour.

As soon as they were in the room, door closed firmly behind them, Steve began stripping Bucky’s clothing from him, easing his shirt over the sensitive stump. “I love you, Buck.”

Smiling softly, Bucky looked at Steve, “I love you, too, Steve.” He bent down and untied his shoes; he took those off and then slid his jeans as well as his socks off. “Long day, huh?”

“Too long?” Steve asked softly, beginning to undress himself by then, slipping out of the soaked shirt and jeans.

“Eh, not _too_ long,” Bucky shook his head. He sat on his side of the bed, grabbing his cream from the bedside table - - the nearly empty jar, though it would be enough for one more coating.

Nude, Steve crawled onto the bed and took the jar with a smile. “I wanna help, Bucky,” he said softly, in a pleading-teasing tone. He began to carefully work the cream into Bucky’s stump, careful to coat every part of his skin and scarring.

Humming, Bucky gave his husband a smile, “ya know, I think I remember you promising to pick up where we left off this morning?”

“And now you’re reading my mind . . .” Steve winked, smiling, as he finished his ministrations and wiped his hands on a handful of tissues. “So, tell me what you want me to do for you, baby. I’m free all night.”

“ _All_ night?” Bucky purred, leaning forward to kiss the hollow of Steve’s neck, nipping lightly. He was still tired, but Bucky wasn’t about to waste a rare opportunity to make love with his husband. “What if I told you want you to fuck me _all night long_?”

“Well, I can promise to take all night with my beloved husband. See him anywhere?” Steve kissed Bucky’s neck. He reached over to the nightstand to grab their lube. “You wanna be on your back or front or side, baby?” Grinning wickedly, Steve added, “or you wanna ride me?”

Moaning softly, Bucky nodded, “I want to ride you,” it was often the most comfortable position for them, aside from Bucky either on his back or topping.

Nodding, Steve stretched up tall on his knees, his member already beginning to fill in anticipation. He eased down onto his back and reached over to stroke a finger down Bucky’s hip. “All your’s, love.”

Grinning, Bucky shifted and straddled his husband’s narrow waist; he ground his ass against Steve’s pelvis as he bent down to kiss Steve’s lips passionately.

“Oh, someone’s perking up,” Steve chuckled low, running his hands up Bucky’s hips to his waist and tugging him down so their erections crushed together, rubbing along their lengths.

Moaning in Steve’s ear, Bucky rolled his hips, chasing that wonderful friction. He turned his head and pulled at Steve’s earlobe with his teeth, “gonna stretch me, doll? Or do I gotta do all the work?”

“You mean I get a choice of just lying here and enjoying or actually working?” Steve teased, beginning to coat his fingers with the lavender lube. He reached down and coasted his slickened fingers over his husband’s passage, enjoying the feeling of Bucky over him. Steve never minded that they rarely changed positions; he just enjoyed loving his husband. He’d had _adventurous_ ; vanilla was fine with him.

Mewling as Steve’s fingers brushed over his entrance, Bucky rolled his hips and moved so that he could once more kiss his husband passionately.

“My God, you’re beautiful in the moonlight. Wanna paint that . . .” Steve murmured up at his lover. He slowly slid one finger around Bucky’s ring of muscle, working it, stretching it as he massaged, never breaching further than just his tip as he pushed in circles to relax the muscle.

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, voice shaking with lust; it had been a few weeks since they’d managed to find time to be intimate with one another; so, Bucky knew he needed to be opened but he really wanted his husband.

“I’ve gotcha, Buck,” Steve purred, patiently working his husband. He had no intention of rushing and hurting Bucky. Slowly, satisfied he could slide his finger past the ring of muscle, Steve slipped one finger into his husband’s passage. In one long, slow stroke, Steve bottomed out his hand, palm against Bucky’s ass. He smiled and held still, enjoying the feeling of the fluttering muscles around his digit.

Groaning, Bucky pushed down against the finger, “I love you, Steve . . . feel so good . . .”

“Gonna feel even better soon, love,” Steve promised as he began curling and working his finger inside Bucky’s hot passage. He dragged the finger out, across his prostate, then pushed back in, stroking in a mini-fucking of his husband.

Bucky keened as Steve brushed over his prostate, a jolt of pleasure thrumming through him. He met Steve’s small thrusts, desperate for his husband.

Smiling, pressing kisses up against Bucky’s mouth above him, Steve slowly worked a second finger into Bucky, stroking his husband’s prostate every third thrust. “You still want this, love? So hot and needy, love when you whine for me . . .”

“Yes, I want it, God, yes . . . please . . .” Bucky mewled, kissing his husband back, “want you so bad, Steve . . .”

“Almost ready, baby,” Steve reassured between kisses. He nipped at Bucky’s lower lip then soothed with his tongue, all the while scissoring and curving his two fingers to stretch his lover. Steve’s erection pressed against Bucky’s inner thigh where it was trapped, full and hard, but down between Bucky’s legs rather than against Steve’s abdomen. He didn’t seem to care as Steve worked his lover.

Bucky whimpered a sound full of need and lust; he moved his lips to suck and nip at Steve’s neck, all the while, rolling his hips to meet his husband’s fingers. He’d always been very responsive to Steve’s touches, always wanting more.

“You are so pretty, Bucky,” Steve whispered; he loved giving out compliments to his beautiful husband. “So ready for me.” Carefully, Steve drew his fingers back then added a third, sliding inside and caressing his husband’s prostate before bottoming out once more. “So needy and wanting for me . . . such pretty noises . . .”

Gasping as another shot of pleasure ran up his spine, Bucky moaned against Steve’s neck, “please, Steve . . . need you . . .”

Nodding, Steve captured Bucky’s lips in a deep kiss as he pulled his fingers from his husband’s body. He reached down to guide his already aching member up to meet Bucky’s fluttering opening. “Ready, babydoll,” he moaned into Bucky’s mouth.

Moaning, Bucky nodded and pushed down, taking in his husband’s large cock in one smooth slide until he bottomed out, ass flush against Steve’s pelvis. “God, yes . . . feels so good, Steve . . . always feels so good . . .”

A long, low whine escaped from Steve as Bucky impaled himself. When his husband had reached bottom, Steve’s balls slapping against the flesh of Bucky’s ass, Steve let out a sigh of pleasure. “Yeah, it does,” he whispered, eyes focusing on Bucky’s. He gripped his husband’s hips and began helping him to rise and fall, soon establishing a quick, deep pace for their lovemaking.

Bucky’s head fell back and he let out a moan; Steve always filled him just right. He easily met the rhythm his husband set.

A small whimper came from the doorway then the sound of hurried feet moving way.

Steve froze and looked towards the door, which had been definitely closed before. “Bucky, up . . .” his voice sounded firm and very worried.

Quickly obeying, Bucky got off, and he blinked, looking towards the door, “you don’t think . . .”

“I do. That was too light to have been Ava.” Steve rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe, tying it very securely around him, closed. He hurried from the bedroom to go check on their son.

Bucky followed, grabbing a pair of his sweats and quickly pulling them on before leaving the room.


	4. Living Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Teen Angst, Post Traumatic Response, Reference Child Sexual Abuse, Self-doubt, Abusive Language**

Steve shook his head, “he couldn’t have seen much. I think he must have left as soon as he registered us.” Steve didn’t like the idea of Kevin’s possible trauma; he’d been severely sexually abused as a toddler, and seeing his fathers engaging in sex could be a very serious trigger. Pushing open Kevin’s bedroom door, Steve frowned. There was no sign of the child, but the dog sat by the closet door, looking worried as only dogs could.

“Kevin?” Bucky called out, cautiously stepping towards the closet, “Tiger . . . can you come out, please?”

The door cracked open and Kevin looked out with wide, tear-washed eyes, face streaked with free flowing tears. He reached out, grabbed Bucky’s wrist, and dragged him into the closet, shutting the door. “Shhh . . .” he said very softly. The light was off so the small room as too dark to see.

Blinking, trying to get used to the darkness, Bucky reached out until he felt his hand come in contact with Kevin’s shoulder; in a soft voice, he said, “hey, Tiger. You’re alright . . . you’re safe, you’re at home.”

“You got away,” Kevin said softly.

“Got away?” Bucky shook his head, “Kevin, would you mind if we go back out to the bedroom so we can talk?”

“No, he might find us,” Kevin whimpered quietly.

“ _He_? You mean Dad?” Bucky asked quietly, very worried about how this might affect how Kevin saw Steve.

“No! Not Dad. The man hurting you.” Apparently he hadn’t seen that it was Steve under Bucky, only registering his one father from the back. The position had masked Steve’s identity.

“Kevin,” Bucky said gently, “listen to me, I wasn’t in danger . . . you’re not in danger.”

“Where’s Dad? We need to get him. He can get rid of the man.” Kevin was trembling and crying, pushing up against his adoptive father. “We can call the police to take away whoever sold you, Papa.”

Bucky felt his heart shattering, “Kevin, I need you to listen to me. I wasn’t sold. Dad and I were . . . enjoying grown-up time together. You didn’t see his face . . . I was with Dad, you know Dad would never hurt me, right?”

“But . . .” Kevin lifted his face from Bucky’s side, obviously peering up at Bucky despite being dark-blinded. “Dad wouldn’t hurt you! And you were in pain. I heard you!” He threw his skinny arms around Bucky in a protective, desperate hug.

“I know it might’ve sounded like that, Kevin,” Bucky wrapped his arm around the small boy, “but, I wasn’t in pain. Dad - - he was . . . making me feel good.”

“But, Papa, he had his penis in your butt. And that hurts a lot. Like you’re being ripped apart!” Kevin trembled.

Sighing, Bucky moved his hand to rub down Kevin’s back, “it doesn’t hurt if the other person treats you right, Kevin. When - - when you were little . . . you were too small for anything like that . . . that’s why it hurt.”

Slowly, Kevin shifted in Bucky’s arms then a clink sounded and the light came on, Kevin letting go of the chain of his closet light as he blinked in the brightness. “Men do that and it feels good?” he asked, biting his lip, tears still in his large grey eyes.

Kneeling, Bucky moved his hand to wipe his thumb over Kevin’s tear-streaked cheek, “it can feel good, Kevin. When you are older and big enough and have the right partner to share it with. Dad would never, ever hurt me.”

“Papa?” Kevin’s voice remained a traumatized whisper, sounding uncertain.

“Yes, Tiger?” Bucky wiped at his son’s other cheek.

“Why would a grown up man want to do that with a baby and hear the baby scream and have blood everywhere?” Kevin’s breath hitched.

Wincing, Bucky brought Kevin close in a comforting hug, “I don’t know. Some people are very, very bad and do very, very bad things. Sometimes . . . no matter how hard we try to figure out why . . . there is no reason. There are just some bad people in this world that like to cause pain.”

“I don’t understand why anyone wants to hurt other people,” Kevin leaned into Bucky again, face burying in Bucky’s lower chest. He whispered, “I didn’t try to peek in the door, Papa. I came over and heard you and thought you were hurt.”

“I know, it’s okay, Kevin. Dad and I aren’t mad at you,” Bucky assured, kissing Kevin’s temple, “though, Dad is worried, want to go give him a hug?”

Nodding, Kevin lifted his face. “How do you keep the poo off?” he asked with a child’s curiosity despite the time or subject.

Laughing softly, Bucky stroked Kevin’s cheek, “there are things to help keep you clean down there. I’ll explain it when you’re a little older, okay?”

Kevin nodded again. “Okay.” He opened the closet door and hesitated as he looked at Steve, head in hands, sitting on Kevin’s bed. The little boy gasped and ran over to his father and hugged him hard. “It’s okay, Dad, I know you didn’t hurt Papa. He ‘splained it all.”

Steve wrapped his arms around his tony eleven year old son and hugged back, careful with his greater strength. “That’s good.” He met Bucky’s eyes. “Kevin, what did you need that you came to our room?”

“I had a nightmare,” Kevin said softly.

Bucky walked out of the closet, but let Steve comfort Kevin; the father and son didn’t get nearly enough time together.

“But I can’t remember it anymore ‘cause dreams get fuzzy and go away. Not like real things.” Kevin sighed and lay his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Nodding, Steve stroked Kevin’s back gently, soothingly. He dropped a kiss on the boy’s soft near-white hair. “I’m sorry you got scared, Kev. Papa and I were making love. It’s a grown up way of showing how much we love each other and making each other feel good.”

“I know, Papa ‘splained already.” Kevin yawned. “But he doesn’t know why big men would want to make love into something to hurt little kids.” The boy was having trouble keeping his eyes open with the end of the excitement.

Steve sighed, frowning, “because they like power and by hurting other people they feel powerful. Not all men are like that, Kevin. You met some really bad ones. What they did was illegal and disgusting. No one should ever hurt a child.”

Kevin nodded but didn’t respond, just snuggling against his father’s strong, broad chest. He drifted off to sleep on a sigh. Steve met Bucky’s eyes again, stroking Kevin’s hair gently.

Bucky sighed, running his hand through his slightly tangled hair, his pale eyes were filled with worry.

Slowly, Steve turned to place the small boy into his bed, tucking him up safely, warmly in the sheets, frowning slightly as he became aware of a very cool breeze. He instantly looked to the window and stood, walking over and looking out past the baby blue curtains. “Buck? Why’s the screen out?”

“What?” Bucky hurried over and looked out the window. The window was only a hand span open but there was no screen. “Why the hell didn’t the alarm go off?” Bucky asked, voice a harsh whisper to avoid waking the sleeping boy.

“And who the hell removed the screen and when?” Steve looked down, from the window, into the back yard, overlooking the pool and patio. Bugs were flying lazily around, congregating at any source of light, including the closet.

“Brock’s still in prison right?” Bucky muttered, knowing the answer but feeling the question needed to be asked.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed, “so’s Jack.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck. Shutting the window, Steve locked it securely despite the summer heat. He turned to Avenger, who seemed nervous and worried still. “Watch Kevin,” he ordered, but looked to Bucky not the dog. “I’m checking on Ava.” Steve hurried down the hall to the sixteen year old’s room. He didn’t even knock when he opened the door.

Ava’s head snapped up, she had headphones on, looking completely oblivious to everything that had happened. Slipping the headphones off her ears, so they hung around her neck, she looked up at Steve.

Steve immediately went to the widow and checked it over, verifying the screen was there and the window secure, if in an open position. “Ava,” he looked to her. “Did you go outside for anything after we went to bed, princess?”

“Uh, no?” Ava frowned, “why, what’s going on?”

“Kevin’s window was open and his screen missing,” Steve got straight to the point. “I’m gonna ask once, so please don’t get offended. Did you rig it so you could have a friend, maybe Daniel, sneak in and out through Kevin’s room?”

Ava looked immediately guilty and she couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, “um . . .”

“And you left the security system off so whoever it was could get in and out, too?” Steve pressed.

“I’m sorry . . .” Ava muttered, cheeks flamed and her eyes still focused on her hands in her lap.

“So, Kevin’s nightmare that sent him running to us might have been an unconscious reaction to someone creeping through his room and window? Do you know how scared he was?” Steve leaned forward, “you don’t remember probably, so tomorrow we’re going to have a serious discussion as to what is wrong with Kevin, Ava. And, you are grounded until school starts. We’ll re-evaluate the punishment once school begins. Don’t ever leave that security undone again.” Steve’s voice was firm, a low warning, quiet with intensity.

Ava looked like she was about to argue but then her resolve crumbled and she nodded, “okay. I’m sorry . . .”

“Well, you’ll be more than aware of why you should feel sorry in the morning,” Steve gave her window one last check then frowned at her. “Put the music away. Bed time.” He walked out.

Bucky sat at the foot of Kevin’s bed and when Steve walked back in, he asked, “Ava okay?”

“Ava’s grounded until school then we re-evaluate her punishment. Tomorrow we talk with her seriously about her throwing away rules right and left and how it’s endangering everyone as well as scaring Kevin.” He sank onto the bed to stroke the boy’s hair. “She rigged it so someone could sneak in through Kevin’s room.”

Looking completely shocked, and then angry, Bucky snapped quietly, “she did _what_?”

Looking at his husband, Steve repeated, “Ava rigged the window so someone could sneak through. She also shut off the security tonight. I don’t think whoever was supposed to show has shown yet or the person has already left.”

Just then, a quiet rattling could be heard at Kevin and TJ’s window, and then the sound of someone trying to open the window but unable due to it being locked.

Steve walked over, staying to the side, and unlocked the window, sliding it open without a sound, as if he might be Ava helping out. He waited to see who came in.

Freddy, a tall, dark haired teenager, snuck in, “thanks - -” the teen’s eyes widened as he looked and saw Bucky sitting on the bed.

“No problem,” Steve’s much deeper voice responded. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Reaching out, Steve grabbed the boy’s arm and growled low, “what the hell do you think you’re doing in here?”

“Steve,” Bucky stood, “let’s take this to the dining room, yeah?” He looked at Kevin, who was still sleeping. He knew they’d be disrupting TJ, but he didn’t know where else to take the teen without waking Kevin.

Nodding, Steve forcefully directed the boy from the bedroom, calling out, “Ava! Downstairs!” He never let go of Freddy’s arm.

Ava hurried out of her room, looking at Freddy with wide eyes; she’d tried to text her boyfriend to tell him not to come, but obviously he hadn’t gotten the message. She avoided Bucky’s stern look as she passed him and followed Steve and Freddy down the stairs.

The light of the TV illuminated the living room, where TJ slept, in soft blue. It seemed the twelve year old had really been tired, and the TV had eased him into sleep a lot faster than he’d ever been able to fall asleep in Kevin’s room.

Once down in the dining room, Steve forced the teen to sit down, pointing to another chair for Ava to sit in. He stood, arms crossed as he waited for Bucky to get comfortable before he finally growled, “this better be good.”

Freddy blinked green eyes and swallowed, glancing towards his girlfriend.

“We - -” Ava stammered, looking very guilty and worried, she hadn’t even told Bucky or Steve that she had a boyfriend, “we’re . . . just gonna . . . hang out?”

Steve’s voice remained a growl as he asked, harshly, “and does _hanging out_ involve being dressed?”

Flushing even brighter, Ava ducked her head and didn’t answer that.

“My God, Ava, the two of you aren’t even out of school yet! What happens when you . . .” Steve snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, backing off instantly. He turned to Bucky instead.

Freddy gulped. “Uh . . . we weren’t planning on running away or dropping outta school or nothing, Mr. Rogers.”

Bucky glared at Freddy, “well, that’s a relief,” he snapped; he tried to keep his voice low, not wanting to wake the boy who slept in the other room. He knew Freddy was considered the _bad boy_ of Ava’s grade and the teen was also the one that had made fun of Kevin after his seizure. “You know what’s also going to be a relief, Freddy?”

“Mr. Rogers?” Freddy asked.

“You not going anywhere near my niece again,” Bucky said firmly.

Looking surprised then resentful, the teen slumped in the chair. “It ain’t like I got in her pants yet. She won’t even do more’n kiss.”

“You can’t do that!” Ava snapped, looking angry.

“And no more meeting behind the bookstore,” Steve growled out, revealing that he’d _known_ about that behavior, too.

Ava looked at Steve and then at Bucky, “you guys can’t keep us apart!”

“Why?” Steve asked in a bark, “you love each other? You want to get married, have babies, pay bills together?”

Ava’s eyes narrowed; she crossed her arms and slumped in her chair, looking furious. “Neither of you are my father!”

Steve straightened and stormed from the room, his angry steps heard despite the bare feet. Not a couple of minutes after, he returned and thrust Ava’s adoption papers under her nose. “I _am_ you father, Ava! I _chose_ to be your father!”

“Not like I asked for that!” Ava shouted back.

“I recall you telling everyone in school that I was your Daddy before I even got the papers to sign,” Steve said, voice dropping softly again.

Glaring, Ava didn’t say anything.

Walking to the phone hanging on the wall, Steve began dialing.

Freddy shook his head and actually shot a glare at Ava. “You said they’d be sleeping like other normal old people.”

Ava turned her head to look at her boyfriend, “normally they _are_ sleeping.”

“So what the heck were they doing in your kid brothers’ room?” he grumped.

“Where you have absolutely no right sneaking into,” Bucky growled at the teen, venom dripping from his tone, “they are _children_. Ever think about how someone creeping into their bedroom might scare them?”

Rolling his eyes, Freddy snarked back, “the one sleeps like the dead and the other one don’t seem to hear me. I’ve done it a hundred times this summer and they ain’t ever woke yet.”

“You’re lucky we aren’t pressing charges - -” Bucky looked at Steve on the phone.

“Thank you, officer. I’ll keep him detained,” Steve said before hanging up the phone, giving the inadvertent lie to Bucky’s words. Steve was pissed enough to get the police to come get the sixteen year old boy.

“You can’t get him arrested!” Ava shouted, actual panic in her eyes.

Steve walked over to her and put a hand on the back of her chair and one on the table, looming over her. “You tell me the truth right now, Ava, because I have ways of finding out. Have you been having sex with him?”

“No! Just kissing!” Ava answered.

“Because while you were fifteen and he was sixteen, that can be considered rape . . .” Steve let that thought stay as he straightened.

“We weren’t having sex!” Ava repeated, looking at Steve with wide eyes, “we weren’t!”

Finally, Steve seemed to relent because he moved to stand behind Freddy’s chair instead. He looked to Bucky, his body stiff with anger and, as his husband could see, intense worry for Ava, Kevin, and TJ. The house had been unsecure at night numerous times, if Freddy’s brag was anywhere near accurate.

“This ends tonight,” Bucky repeated, looking just as angry and worried, “there will be no more contact between the two of you.”

The sound of sirens approached the house and Freddy went pale.

Eyes narrowing again, Ava snapped at Bucky, “yeah, right, Steve hurts you in school, because he always pulls people away from the ones they love, so you take out all that hurt on me!”

Freddy snapped right back at her, though the comment hadn’t been directed at him, “I ain’t going to jail for no fucking cock tease!” He forced his way past the startled Steve and ran for the front door.

Steve growled out, “you little shit!” and bolted after the kid.

Bucky stared at Ava, shocked by her comment that was meant for to hurt both Steve and him. Ava met her uncle’s look with a glare of her own.

“What’s a cock tease?” Kevin asked from the doorway. The fighting had woken him up, which meant TJ was probably up and trying to avoid the confrontation.

Sighing, Bucky tore his eyes from his niece and turned to look at Kevin.

“And why did Freddy call Ava one?” Kevin walked in, Avenger faithfully at his side.

Ava crossed her arms again; she was mad at everyone. Mad at Steve and Bucky for causing this blow-up and mad at Freddy for calling her a _cock tease_. Obviously, Freddy didn’t care for her and that stung, but, right then, most of her anger was directed at her adoptive parents.

As Bucky began walking towards Kevin, Ava rolled her eyes and snapped, “yeah, go take care of Kevin. That’s what you _always_ do! That’s all you two care about! Everything is always about Kevin and TJ! Steve doesn’t even care about any of us! He’s always working and leaving everything up to a cripple!”

Steve stopped in the doorway as he was walking back in, empty handed. His eyes opened wide and a surge of intense defensive anger broiled through him.

Bucky froze, spine stiffening and his hand clenching at his side. He didn’t even say anything, his face emotionless.

“Ava . . . go to your room. Pack a suitcase.” Steve’s tone was quiet, almost deadly sounding in the room.

“Pushing me away, too, Steve?” Ava snapped, standing up, and before he could even respond she brushed past Bucky and Kevin and hurried up the stairs; her door slamming shut echoed throughout the home.

Turning, Steve stepped into the hall and called, with an anger-laced calm, “you were supposed to go to your Mother’s house this weekend. Did you want me to cancel that because you’re being a bratty seven year old?”

Ava didn’t answer Steve; it only took her a few minutes to throw clothes and necessities into a suitcase and walk back into the hall.

“Thank you, Ava,” Steve said. “Put it down by the door and go to bed. We’ll discuss this in the morning when you’re calmer.”

Ava did as she was told, and hurried back into her room, not saying anything to anyone.

“Come on, Tiger, let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” Bucky offered the boy a small, pained smile.

“Why’s Ava hate me?” Kevin asked quietly.

“She doesn’t. She was mad at us,” Bucky assured, guiding his son back up the stairs and into his room. “Sorry we woke you up, Tiger.” Bucky looked at Steve, “mind checking on TJ. He probably heard all that. I’ll get Kevin back in bed.” Steve nodded and turned once more to head out.

“The mosquitos woke me up then I heard yelling.” Kevin’s room was crawling with night time bugs that got in through the open window earlier.

Looking around, Bucky sighed again and nodded, “why don’t you sleep in our room tonight, I’ll take care of the bugs tomorrow.”

“Papa? Does Dad really care more about work then taking care of us?” Kevin looked up at his adoptive father.

“No, your Dad loves us very much and works hard so we can live comfortably,” Bucky answered, leading the boy into the master bedroom. The brunet quickly grabbed the lube that was still on the bed and threw it inside the bedside table. Steve and him hadn’t gotten far earlier so the sheets were clean enough that he didn’t have to change them.

“Why did Freddy call Ava a cock tease?” Kevin picked back up on another question, one that had been ignored.

“That’s just a mean term,” Bucky answered, pulling back the thin sheet so Kevin could get in the bed, “he was saying it to be mean and hurt Ava.”

“Well, that means he doesn’t love her if he wants to hurt her,” the boy crawled into the bed, on Steve’s side, and settled down.

“You’re very right,” Bucky nodded, pulling the sheet up and tucking Kevin in.

“I think he shouldn’t be allowed to kiss her anymore,” Kevin yawned.

“Me and you, both, kiddo,” Bucky leaned down and kissed Kevin’s forehead, “get some sleep, okay?”

“Papa, I think we should pull July from the calendar after all. I don’t wanna be sixteen. It makes people angry.” The eleven year old turned over, burying his face in Steve’s pillow, and drifted off.

Smiling softly, Bucky turned and walked from the room, flipping the light off and leaving the door open a crack before walking back downstairs in search of Steve.

**************

As Bucky and Kevin went upstairs, Steve stepped into the doorway of the living room. “Hey, Teej. How’s it going in here?” He knew there was no way TJ could have slept through the argument when it had woken Kevin upstairs.

TJ, who was still lying down, staring blankly at the TV, said, “it’s alright . . . Ava’s upset?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, we caught her sneaking a boy into the house and turning off the security. She’s in trouble.”

Nodding, TJ’s tired eyes moved to look at Steve, “I saw him come in all the time. I . . . I didn’t want to get Ava in trouble . . . I’m sorry.”

“TJ, you know why we don’t want people coming in the window, right? Why they should come through the front door, instead?” Steve sat on a chair facing the couch.

“So you know who’s in your house?” TJ said, his eyes meeting Steve’s.

“Well, that’s part of it, but mainly it’s because we want to be sure all of you are safe. If we get to meet the person, we can try to judge his or her character. And Ava shouldn’t be sneaking people in. Neither should you or Kevin. Sneaking isn’t necessary,” Steve remarked.

“Haven’t snuck anyone in, promise, Steve,” TJ said softly, “I . . . I shoulda told you about Freddy comin’ in. But . . .”

Nodding, Steve reached over and patted TJ’s foot under the throw blanket. “Okay, I accept your apology. We can talk more in the morning.” He smiled proudly at the preteen.

“Steve . . . I,” TJ’s eyes flickered towards the television and then back to Steve, “is it okay if I leave on the TV . . . even if I’m sleeping?”

Steve stroked TJ’s foot and nodded. “Sometimes the music and voices help keep the nightmares at bay, Teej. Sure you can sleep with the television. I’ll check with Bucky about future arrangements, okay?”

TJ nodded and then settled back against the pillow, “‘kay. Night, Steve . . .”

Steve smiled and softly replied, “Good night, TJ, honey. Sleep well. Good night, Malakai.” He turned back to the main door and walked into the hall with a sigh. Knowing there was a mess to tend, Steve headed directly for the kitchen.

**************

His husband was cleaning up the rest of the party detritus. He worked silently and his eyes were distant and hurt as his hands moved intently over the dishes with his scrub sponge, not even bothering with the dishwasher. “Steve, you okay?” Bucky asked softly, approaching his husband. He’d checked on TJ on the way in, and the boy had already been drifting off again.

“I’m afraid to drive her away with any discipline we give, but she can’t be let to run wild.” Steve hung his head. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“Well, she’s definitely still grounded, I’ll call Becca before I drop her off tomorrow morning to let her know. She’s a teenager . . . she’s bound to act up every once in awhile,” Bucky walked up behind Steve, wrapping his arm around the blond’s waist and kissing the back of his neck.

“But what if it’s more than a teenaged rebellion, Buck? What if she’s really feeling jealous of Kevin or TJ, or upset by my work schedule, or . . .” he dropped off and sighed, scrubbing harder at the grease on the hamburger platter Clint had used for the barbecue.

“We can talk with her after this weekend, after everyone is a bit calmer,” Bucky offered, kissing again.

Nodding, Steve slid the dish under the water to rinse then placed it in the drainboard. He then disposed of the wash water and wiped down the sink. “You should get some rest, Bucky. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine, Steve,” Bucky assured, “I wanna make sure you’re alright . . . you’re cleaning . . .”

“Don’t wanna have a dirty house for you guys,” Steve responded automatically. “I’ve gotta go get the bugs outta Kevin’s room, and find his screen . . .” Apparently Ava’s mini-rebellion had really hurt Steve. He dried off his hands and carefully folded up the adoption papers to return to the safe in his art studio. “It’s a couple hours yet to sunrise . . .” he said softy.

“Steve,” Bucky said gently, “Kevin is sleeping in our room, right now, the bugs can wait until the morning.”

Nodding, Steve merely stood in the dining room, and his shoulders slumped as he let out a shaky breath. He looked so dejected and hurt. “I love them so much, Bucky. All of you.”

“I know, Steve. The kids know. Ava was just upset, she didn’t mean what she said,” Bucky walked over and rubbed Steve’s arm soothingly.

He turned his eyes to his husband. Leaning over, Steve barely brushed his lips over Bucky’s before moving away to secure the documents. He paused to glance at the painting he’d been commissioned to do for a customer by the name of Wilson Fisk, a Senator from Manhattan. It was almost done and looked amazing, even in the darkened room. Steve’s hands had gotten so much steadier despite the severe cramping he got from overuse. “Bucky?” he called softly, still looking at the painting of the morning light breaking over the New York City skyline.

Walking into the studio, Bucky answered, “yeah, Steve?”

“Mister Fisk offered to give me a larger studio, where I could hire more than just Becca to help out. It would give me more time at home . . .” He turned his eyes to his husband. “I turned him down . . . but . . . maybe I should call him back?”

Bucky frowned; he’d never really trusted or liked the large Senator, something always seemed a bit _off_ with him. “Uh . . . why? We’re handling things at home . . . unless - - you want a bigger studio?”

“Not really,” Steve said. “I like being attached to the bookstore. But, you’re always so tired, and now Ava’s acting out, and Kevin’s a lot sicker than we thought . . .” he sighed, “and with TJ’s nightmares.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?” Bucky asked softly, pale eyes flashing with worry.

Steve’s head snapped over to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Of course you can handle it! You’re the amazing man who raised his niece on his own for five years, why can’t you handle _this_?” He turned and wrapped both arms around Bucky in a hug.

“I’m - - I’m a cripple . . .” Bucky said softly, showing that Ava’s comments had also hurt him just as much as they’d hurt Steve.

“Since when?” Steve murmured and dropped a kiss on his husband’s lips.

“Don’t know if you noticed . . . I’m kinda short a limb,” Bucky muttered, eyes downcast.

Nodding, Seve solemnly said, “yes, and with three limbs you do more than most four-limbed humans. Bucky, how many people can button their fly with one hand? Tie their shoes? Do the chores and help the kids and wrangle an angry cat for a vet appointment with only one arm? That’s not crippled, that’s amazing!” He kissed Bucky again.

Bucky looked up at Steve, eyes brimming with tears, “you think so?”

“Hell, love, I _know_ so. I’m glad the arm’s gone, really. When you had it, you were always digging at it and stuff. It was like you were trying to remove it anyway. Now, you are so beautiful. I love asymmetrical. It’s an artist thing.” He offered a smile.

Laughing softly, Bucky wiped at his eyes and nodded, “thanks, Steve . . .”

“Anytime, my love. And, Ava’s got a lot of her Mom in her. She knows just where to push buttons to make a very nasty dig.” He sighed. “But she’s also a very loving and wonderful young woman. We just have to find a way to keep encouraging the good witch to make her regular appearances rather than the ogre.” Steve touched his forehead to Bucky’s.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “yeah, I know. Hopefully, she’ll have calmed down over the weekend and will be up to talking on Monday.”

“I was going to talk to her about teen pregnancy and stuff tomorrow. Think that’s too soon?” Steve bit his lip, worried.

“Depends if she’s still fuming or not,” Bucky shrugged and rubbed at his face; he really was exhausted and his shoulder had started acting up again, much like it always did with high stress.

Steve kissed Bucky’s forehead and pulled back slowly. “I’m gonna cream your arm, the polite way,” he winked, “then tuck you in with our son. You are looking like you’re about to drop, sweetheart.” Steve offered a soft smile to Bucky.

“What about you?” Bucky asked softly, looking a little worried, “you need sleep, too, Steve.”

Nodding, Steve said, “if there’s no room with Kevin in the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s not like it’s a permanent arrangement.”

“Can’t sleep on the couch,” Bucky sighed, stifling a yawn behind his hand, “when will TJ's room be ready? They're almost done, right?”

“Yeah, done soon.” Steve sighed. “Or we could cuddle for a bit on that fold out bunk I never use,” Steve confirmed on a chuckle. “You still got that cream down here in the studio or did you bring both upstairs?”

“I think it’s still in here somewhere,” Bucky confirmed, looking around.

“Hey, Bucky, want I should call the Odinsons and have them add another addition onto the house?” Steve looked around and scooped up the jar, sitting neglected on a paint storage counter. He unfolded the futon in the corner of his studio. Sinking down, Steve pulled Bucky onto his lap and began massaging the cream into his shoulder yet again.

“For what? Please don’t tell me you want another kid,” Bucky looked at Steve. “And I’m not sure there’s much space for another addition, Steve.”

Steve chuckled. “No, I was thinking a downstairs room off the studio that housed a whirlpool and stuff that’s off limits to the kids. Maybe one of those rainfall showers . . .”

Humming, Bucky nodded, “sure, sounds like it’d be amazing.”

Nodding, kissing Bucky’s neck, Steve said softly, “I’ll start looking at the budget, sweetheart. I want to get you a spa room.”

“Ya spoil me, Steve,” Bucky drawled, extending his neck for more of Steve’s kisses.

“You deserve spoiling, Buck,” Steve crooned softly. He put away the cream and wiped his hand on some tissues, tossing them into a small trash bin near the bed. Lying backwards so he was stretched out on the futon, Steve tugged Bucky down on top of him. He nuzzled his husband’s neck. “Love you so much, babydoll.”

Nuzzling Steve’s chest, Bucky murmured, “I love you, too, Stevie . . .” it only took a few minutes for Bucky to drift off, wrapped in his husband’s strong arms.


	5. Things Take a Twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Referenced Severe Child Sexual Abuse, Dissociation and Post traumatic, Seizures, Medical Procedures**

The next morning, Ava quietly made her way downstairs, looking wary and slightly embarrassed. She could hear the sounds of someone, most likely Steve, cooking breakfast in the kitchen. On her way to the kitchen, Ava passed by the still sleeping TJ on the couch, the TV on at low volume. As she walked up to the breakfast bar, Ava watched Steve for a few moments, worried and a little scared about how mad Steve might still be. She knew she’d said some horrible things the night before, had broken _several_ rules. She felt bad for what she’d said and wished she could take them back. Obviously, Freddy hadn’t been worth hurting her family over.

“Good morning, Steve,” Ava said softly, watching the blond closely, trying to judge his mood.

Steve offered a gentle smile to Ava. “Hungry, princess?”

“Uh . . .” Ava chewed her bottom lip, “yes?” Her eyes were confused, she hadn’t expected Steve to act so . . . _normal_ after the big fight.

Steve nodded. He began putting on food for Ava, working steadily. “Any bugs get into your room last night, princess? I hope not.”

“No,” Ava shook her head, keeping her tone soft to avoid waking up TJ in the other room, “no bugs.” She continued to watch Steve, trying to figure out if his apparent good mood was going to take a turn.

“Ava, princess, do you understand why it was so serious a problem allowing _anyone_ to sneak in through Kevin’s room, specifically?” Steve lay a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Ava.

Sighing softly, Ava nodded, “because Kevin used to be with some bad people? And got hurt?”

Nodding, Steve said, “when he was born, Brock sold him. We had no way of stopping him, either, Kevin’s mother or I. In fact, I didn’t know Kevin was mine, just suspected. Later, when Kevin was about four or five, the woman who’d bought him started selling him out to men for sex.” Steve looked at Ava.

Ava frowned and shook her head, “but . . . he was just a baby? Why would anyone want to hurt a baby like that?”

“Because, Ava, there are sick people in this world who are only into pleasuring themselves. I don’t know how they think putting a tiny child like Kevin through such pain and trauma could be stimulating, but that’s what happened. Kevin still remembers it, in fact. I could wish he wasn’t eidetic.” Steve shook his head and began making more breakfast, knowing Bucky would be up as soon as he smelled the coffee brewing.

As if on cue, Bucky shuffled out of the studio, looking exhausted with his disheveled hair. He headed straight for the coffee maker.

“And, unfortunately, TJ’s so traumatized about his loss that he won’t tell us what he needs or wants, afraid he’s bothering us. So, when you said everything’s about him, you might have just caused him to close down even more, princess. We’re hoping we can get him to open up instead.” Steve sighed, turned to check the food, not watching Bucky.

Ava frowned even more, her eyes flickering between Steve and Bucky, the brunet putting powdered sugar in his coffee rather than normal sugar. Looking back at Steve, Ava said, “I . . . I didn’t want to hurt him more, honest, Steve.”

“But you were angry at being questioned and challenged, hurt by the events and the shock of what was being said about you . . . so you lashed out at the seemingly safe targets, the targets that often would forgive you?” Steve prompted, turning around and frowning, “Bucky? What’re you doing, love?”

“Makin’ coffee?” Bucky murmured.

“Makin’ coffee?” Steve asked, “or coffee _cake_?”

“What?” Bucky frowned, looking back at Steve and then at the container he’d mistaken for his normal sugar. “Oh . . .” the brunet sighed and moved over to the sink to dump out the mug he had made. He started over again, this time making sure to grab the right ingredients.

Kevin walked in wearing sleep-rumpled t-shirt and shorts. He looked like he hadn’t slept long at all. He looked around at the small family and practically whispered, “good morning. I can serve myself if I’m in the way.”

Blinking, Bucky looked over at Steve with a frown and then back at Kevin, “never in the way, Tiger.”

“Don’t wanna upset Ava,” he murmured, ducking his head. “I got her in trouble accidentally.”

“Kevin,” Ava slipped off her stool and walked over to the small eleven year old boy, “I didn’t mean what I said last night. I was angry and said things that weren’t true. I’m sorry.”

Kevin looked at her. “I think your boyfriend is trying to hurt you to get his own way,” he said, as if out of the blue.

Ava sighed and said, “he’s not my boyfriend . . . not anymore. He was a jerk, anyway.”

Nodding, Kevin shifted his feet and just stood there, by the door. “I love you more than he does, Ava.”

“I know, Kevin,” Ava hugged her adoptive brother, “I love you, too.”

Kevin finally moved over to wrap his skinny arms around the teenaged girl, holding tight, burying his face in her shoulder with a soft sob. “I’m sorry we fought, Ava.” Avenger, at his side, watched with solemn looking eyes.

Bucky sighed softly and looked at Steve, taking a sip of his coffee. He still looked tired, but the coffee was helping to wake him up. Taking a step closer to his husband, Bucky asked softly, “should we wake TJ, or let him sleep?”

“TJ didn’t fall asleep so quickly, Buck. If everyone’s okay with not bugging him, I say let the poor kid sleep while he can. Hopefully, he won’t have a very bad nightmare.” Steve set a plate of food at Bucky’s place then began working on some for Kevin.

Nodding, Bucky moved to sit at his spot, “thanks, Steve, looks really good. And, yeah, I agree with you. We should let him sleep for however long he can.”

Ava finally let go of Kevin to sit back down and continue eating her breakfast.

Kevin joined her, sinking to his chair and smiling at Steve as his father gave him food. “Thanks, Dad.”

Rubbing his eyes, Bucky said, “I think it might be best if we call an Uber or something for today. I don't know if I should drive . . .” Even after all these years, Steve still didn't have his license, it didn't bother Bucky, but if, for some reason, he couldn't drive, they had to call the driving service.

Steve nodded. “That’s a good idea. Kevin, since you’re actually still in clothes, you can wear what you slept in. I’ll go get TJ up and see if he wants some juice and toast.” Steve stepped over to Bucky and kissed him with a smile. “Love you, Bucky,” he said softly and turned to go to the living room to get TJ, sighing over the necessity of actually waking the boy.

TJ was still asleep on the couch, having hardly moved since he’d fallen asleep a few hours before. Malakai saw Steve’s approach and looked up at the blond, tail thumping lightly against the floor.

Steve smiled and stroked the dog’s ears. “Good boy, Malakai,” he praised. “We’ll move your doggie bed in here tonight.” Steve walked over and shut the TV off, turning to study the sleeping twelve year old.

As if the boy could sense that someone was watching him, he began to stir, blinking awake and looking up at Steve. “Oh . . . ‘m sorry . . . did I oversleep?” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

“No, but we’re going to take Ava to her mother’s. I wondered if you wanted some juice and toast?” Steve stroked the dog again. “And to feed Malakai?”

“M’kay,” TJ rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around as if confirming his surroundings. He got up and folded the blanket, putting it back over the couch and fixing the pillow he’d slept on. “Jus’ a little toast? ‘M not very hungry . . .” he looked at Steve.

Nodding, Steve said “I know, Teej. You’re rarely hungry, especially in the morning. Try some juice, too, honey?”

“Okay,” TJ agreed readily, “Imma feed Malakai.” He shuffled towards the kitchen, the dog food being kept in the closet near the kitchen. When he saw Ava, the boy ducked his head and muttered a soft, “mornin’ everyone.”

Kevin practically leapt over to TJ and hugged his cousin. “Hey, TJ,” he said. “Did sleeping with the TV help?”

“Uh . . .” TJ hugged Kevin back before bending to grab Malakai’s bowl and heading to get the dog some food. “Yeah? Didn’t . . . wake up?”

“That’s great!” Kevin smiled. “I slept in Papa’s bed.” He sat back down then hopped up so he could go feed Avenger now that Malakai was being fed.

“That’s . . . good?” TJ looked over at Kevin and then Bucky and then back to Kevin. “You like sleeping in Bucky and Steve’s bed?”

“When I have nightmares or terrors, it makes me feel safer,” Kevin nodded.

TJ nodded and then looked at Steve, “do . . . do you want me to come with you guys today?” The boy was used to being left at home, albeit with security and nannies, but it had been a lot to get used to with the Rogers family doing practically everything together.

Steve smiled. “It’d be nice to have the whole family, TJ, but if you aren’t up to it, we understand.”

“And . . . you’re going to drop Ava off? Anything else?” TJ asked, his eyes nervously flickering to Ava and then back to Steve.

“We have an appointment at the clinic, too. It’d be nice if you can go with us. Maybe you can check out information on support groups for Kevin and anything else of interest to us?” Steve suggested.

“I’ll do whatever you need,” TJ answered, slipping into a stool of his own as he waited for breakfast.

Steve made toast and passed it to TJ along with some orange juice. “Buck? Getting dressed today or going in your sweats? Need help with your arm?”

Looking at Steve, Bucky nodded, “probably will need help . . . the straps can be hard.” He pushed out of his seat, brought his dishes to the dishwasher and headed for the stairs to go get ready.

Steve cleaned up his own and Kevin’s dishes and followed, leaving the three children alone with the dogs in the kitchen; he gave Ava a look of encouragement as he left. He followed his husband to their bedroom. Smiling, walking up behind Bucky, Steve stroked down the brunet’s back then slid his shirt off of him. “Wish we had time to play,” he sighed and kissed the back of Bucky’s neck.

Humming softly, Bucky nodded, “wouldn’t that be nice? We never really did get a _honeymoon_ phase, did we? Jumped right into having two kids . . . now three.”

Laughing, Steve said, “had two before we even got to the wedding, my love.” Steve began helping Bucky with his prosthetic.

“Yeah, we kinda did this outta order,” Bucky laughed softly, letting his husband help with the arm. “When the kids are a bit older and more . . . settled, we should think about taking a vacation, just the two of us.”

“I think that’d be great, Buck. Now we just have to arrange for the _settled_ part.” Steve kissed Bucky’s shoulder. “Love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Steve,” Bucky smiled at his lover, “it seemed like sleeping on the couch with the TV was good for TJ? No nightmares at least.”

Nodding, Steve grabbed some clothes for Bucky and began helping him into the shirt, even though Bucky was quite capable. It was apparent the blond was stalling Bucky upstairs for some reason. “Yeah, we should maybe look into getting him a television for his own room?”

“Yeah, if it helps,” Bucky agreed with a nod. He looked at his husband and cocked a brow at him, “there a reason you’re keepin’ me up here, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I’m trying to give Ava a chance to apologize to TJ for what she said and he overheard. Thought it might be easier for her if the adults weren’t there?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand, Bucky nodded and let out a sigh, “you think that it’s really gonna affect TJ? I’d hate for him to close up even more.”

“He’s been watching her warily, so I hope the apology following so close on the hurtful words will help. Especially if she’s wise enough to explain she was trying to hurt us, not him. We’ll see.” Steve kissed Bucky’s shoulder again, moving the collar to get to the flesh. “Guess we’ve dawdled enough, huh?”

“Keep kissin’ me and I’m gonna make us dawdle more,” Bucky teased with a breathy laugh, enjoying his husband’s kisses.

“Tempting . . .” Steve chuckled in return then straightened up. “Okay, got people to see, places to go, things to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky laughed, fixing his shirt, “always got people to see, places to go, and things to do.” He headed out into the hallway where he could hear the shower in the main bathroom running. He assumed it was probably TJ getting ready, “well, that could either be good or bad news,” Bucky said quietly over his shoulder to his husband.

With a sigh, Steve said, “hopefully it’s good. I’d like TJ to come with us. I think it’ll be good for him and Malakai to get out and work together. Malakai will be bored if he doesn’t get to do his job, for one.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, tossing one last glance towards the bathroom and then heading down the stairs towards the other two kids.

Ava looked a little sheepish, like how most teens do after apologizing, and she watched her adoptive fathers come down into the living room. “TJ’s getting ready . . . said he’d only be a few minutes,” she reported.

“How’re you feeling now, princess? A little better?” Steve asked gently, reaching over to stroke her hair.

“Kinda crappy to be honest,” Ava muttered softly with a sigh.

Nodding, the blond man said, “but less than if you waited or never apologized at all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ava nodded, “I honestly didn’t . . . mean to hurt them. Wasn’t even thinking.”

“Often hurt and anger make us do and say things we’d never want to or even mean to if we were thinking calmly.” Steve hugged the sixteen year old. “But we’ll discuss things later. Right now, you go talk with your mom about things, if you wish. A woman’s point of view might help. Or you can call Nat?”

“Maybe I’ll do both?” Ava shrugged, tucking some of her long brown hair behind her ear.

It was only a few more minutes before TJ walked down the stairs, freshly showered and changed into a clean outfit. Malakai followed faithfully at his owner’s heels. Looking over, some of his curls, which had grown over the last few months, were hanging damply. TJ pushed them out of his eyes and gave the others a small smile.

Kevin, in rumpled shorts and t-shirt, smiled at TJ. “Feel better?” he asked softly, stroking Avenger’s ears.

“Feel showered?” TJ gave the smaller boy a crooked grin.

“Okay, well, the Uber should be here any minute guys. I’m calling for it now,” Steve got on his phone to alert their regular Uber driver, a man named Scott, that they needed him.

The family waited in the living room until they got the alert that the driver was there.

Leading the family group, and two dogs, out to meet with Scott, who thankfully drove an SUV, Steve smiled. “Thanks, Scott. We need to go to Becca’s. You remember the address?”

Kevin softly said, “Papa forgot his wallet and phone.”

Steve looked at Bucky with a soft, puzzled frown. He returned to the house to get the items while Bucky settled the kids and dogs in the vehicle. He came back minutes later and held them out to his husband.

Just as TJ was about to step into the car, Avenger let out a funny sounding yip and pushed at TJ’s legs, forcing him up to the side of the car but blocking him from climbing in. The boy looked momentarily confused before his eyes rolled back and he slid against the car until he was on the ground, entire body shaking uncontrollably.

Kevin let out a scream of horror, unsure what was happening . “He’s dying!” He’d had never _seen_ a seizure, only gone through them.

“Shit!” Steve knelt down and started loosening the boy’s belt and other clothing, trying to make sure nothing was around that would hurt him. Avenger stayed close, ignoring any bodily fluids that got on his fur, acting as a protective barrier so TJ wouldn't roll into the street. Bucky quickly moved to help Steve, eyes wide as he watched TJ shake, not having expected the boy to have a seizure.

Ava knelt down in front of Kevin, forcing the boy to look away and at her, her hands on his shoulders, keeping him facing her. “It’s okay, Kevin,” she reassured her adoptive brother, though her eyes looked just as frightened.

“But he’s dying,” Kevin hugged her tight, crying, near hysterics.

“He’s coming down,” Steve said, thankfully. Seizures rarely lasted longer than a few minutes. He stroked the boy’s hair. “TJ, baby, you hear me? Blink twice, baby,” he used Kevin’s codes for communicating in the postictal state.

TJ blinked twice, his eyes dazed and confused. Malakai whimpered nearby, looking as anxious as a dog could look.

Steve nodded and stroked the boy’s hair. “You’re going to feel sick and dizzy and weaker than a kitten, baby. You’ll have a bad headache. You’ve just had a seizure, like Kevin gets. We’re going to get you to Bruce to get checked out. Avenger and Malakai are here. We’re all here. You go ahead and take a nap, TJ. It’s okay. You’re safe.” His voice was a soothing murmur, like he always used with Kevin after a seizure.

The barely conscious twelve year old let out a small noise before he seemed to listen to Steve, letting his eyes close and his exhaustion win out.

Bucky looked at Steve, eyes wide and very worried as he ran his flesh fingers down TJ’s arm.

“Scott, I want you to drive Ava to Becca’s, please. Kevin, come here to hold onto TJ’s hand while we get him cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes. You've been through this so you can talk to him and explain it.” Steve stood and walked to the Uber driver and handed him several bills. He turned and kissed Ava. “We’ll talk on Monday.”

Walking back to TJ, Steve carefully scooped the delicately built boy up and headed for the house. “Bucky, get Kevin’s journal, please. I want Bruce to see that after he’s checked over TJ.”

Nodding, Bucky stood up and offered Kevin a reassuring smile, “TJ’s gonna be okay, Tiger. Promise.” He frowned softly when he couldn’t quite remember where he last saw the boy’s journal.

“That was a seizure?” Kevin sobbed, still looking horrified. “I don’t wanna do that any more!”

“Yes, Kevin, that was a seizure, a pretty bad one,” Bucky answered honestly, wrapping one arm around Kevin and then snapping his fingers so the dogs would follow. “But, we’re gonna have Bruce check TJ once we get him all cleaned up. He’s gonna be confused and sick, like you are when you wake up.”

Softly, Kevin said, “Will TJ keep a diary, too?”

“Bruce will probably want him to,” Bucky nodded, leading the boy and the two dogs back into the house behind his husband who carried TJ. “But, there are a lot of things that can cause a seizure. So, Bruce is gonna have to run a whole bunch of tests. Do you remember that?”

“I was a baby, but, I remember everything, Papa,” Kevin sighed, his sobs dying off with his fears.

Steve carried TJ to the downstairs bathroom and stripped the boy, putting him carefully in the tub. Washing TJ in just a few inches of water, Steve made sure the postictal child wouldn’t drown or hurt himself. He tenderly cleaned every inch of TJ, murmuring the entire time about what he did, how TJ might be feeling, what they would tell Bruce, and the tests Bruce was going to do. He reminded the lean brunet that Kevin went through this at age five or six and was fine. And TJ was a good, special boy that they loved very much.

TJ’s eyes opened again and he blinked slowly a few times, looking at Steve. The pain he felt was very obvious in his expressive pale eyes. The boy slumped in the tub, as if he was too tired to hold himself up properly.

Steve stroked TJ’s wet curls and cooed to him, “it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Steve is here for you. Once we get you cleaned up, I’ll give you some children’s aspirin, okay?”

On the way to TJ and Kevin’s room, Bucky found Kevin’s journal from the night before. He handed the journal to Kevin, “want to help pick out some clothes for TJ, Tiger? Which clothes are TJ’s comfiest?” Bucky wanted to make sure Kevin was a part of this process, knowing it’d be good for the eleven year old, give him more understanding about his own seizures.

Nodding, Kevin headed directly for TJ’s half of the bureau. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of very soft pajama bottoms and a comfy kitten-soft sweater. “I know it’s hot out, Papa, but he likes these best.” Looking up, Kevin said, “maybe we can put on the air conditioning for him?”

“That’s a good idea, Tiger,” Bucky grinned; he looked on TJ’s bed and saw the wolf that they’d gotten for him during the Christmas they’d shared together when TJ was eight. “Think we should take his wolf? Or leave it here? Bruce is gonna want to keep TJ overnight for sure.”

“I think he needs Luna, Papa,” Kevin picked out a pair of comfy, loose boxers for TJ to add to the stack, but he ignored socks and shoes. “Maybe we should all have a night bag so we can stay with TJ?” The under-sized eleven year old carried the clothes downstairs to the bathroom for TJ.

Grabbing the smaller stuffed wolf that TJ had owned since he was a baby, Bucky nodded as he followed Kevin out, “that’s smart thinking. After you drop off the clothes, why don’t you go pack a bag for yourself?”

“I’ll pack for the weekend for me and TJ, Papa, just in case?” Kevin looked at his adoptive father. “There are a _lot_ of tests.” He walked over to the sink and put down the comfy clothes then over to the bathtub and reached in to stroke TJ’s wet curls. “I love you so much, TJ. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you through this.”

TJ’s eyes flickered over to look at Kevin and he sluggishly nodded, “you . . . too,” he managed to murmur.

Bucky crouched down and kissed Kevin’s temple, reaching into the tub to stroke TJ’s arm. He handed the very worn stuffed wolf to Kevin, “want to go pack your and TJ’s bags, Kevin?”

Nodding, Kevin looked at TJ. “I’m gonna pack for us and make sure Luna comes, too. And Avenger can help both of us.” Kevin walked from the room, his dog right by his side. Steve reached over to stroke Malakai’s ears. “Good boy. Wanna check on TJ, Malakai?” he asked the worried service dog. Steve wrapped TJ in a large towel and took him from the tub, sitting down with the boy on his lap to let the dog check him over.

Malakai let out a nervous seeming huff and moved over to sniff and nuzzle at TJ, licking the boy’s fingers.

Bucky looked at Steve, “Kevin’s packing their bags for the weekend. He’s right, there’s gonna be a lot of tests. We’ll probably be there for the weekend.”

“That’s fine. TJ will finally get to see what it’s like to live at the clinic for a few days. It’s like a mini-vacation centered around family there.” Steve began drying to boy’’s hair, leaving him wrapped in the towel and resting against the large man’s lap and waist. “Make sure we have food and supplies for the dogs. Not sure how much the clinic provides for service dogs since I rarely saw them there when I volunteered years ago.

Nodding, Bucky stood back up, “you need my help getting him dressed, Stevie?”

“Please? Why don’t you dress him and talk with him, Bucky? He needs to hear us all. It would have been nice to have Ava here, too, but she was already late.” Steve kissed TJ’s forehead and said, softly, “Bucky’s gonna finish drying you and dress you, baby. Blink twice if you understand, TJ. Once if you don’t wanna.”

TJ blinked twice, letting out a pained sounding whimper.

Steve carefully transferred the boy to Bucky’s care. He stood and hurried over to the medicine cabinet to measure out a dose of the promised medicine for the boy. Coming back, Steve helped TJ swallow the liquid, knowing it’d be easier than tablets. Once done medicating TJ, Steve opened Kevin’s journal to the back page and noted everything about TJ’s seizure, including when, how long, meds given, etc. He wanted to be sure Bruce had all the information they could give.

Bucky finished drying and dressing TJ within a few minutes, murmuring soothingly into the boy’s ear. He kept the thin boy cradled in his lap, thankful he’d worn the prosthetic that morning. “Steve?” Bucky called out softly, “we’re gonna need a bag for ourselves, too.”

“Thanks for remembering for me, babe!” Steve called back and grabbed their emergency bags. They’d long been prepared for emergencies with Ava and Kevin, so packing wasn’t necessary to hold them up. Walking back to the bathroom, Steve smiled and said, “is he starting to feel the meds? It’s been almost twenty minutes.”

“I think so?” Bucky nodded, looking at TJ, who seemed to have fallen back asleep in Bucky’s arms.

Steve carefully lifted TJ and carried him to the living room. “Buck? Get your wallet, phone, and keys. Call Scott and ask him to come get us when he can. We’re going to the clinic.” Steve sank onto the couch with TJ on his lap.

Nodding, Bucky grabbed the items. He hated that he often forgot little things such as his keys and wallet, and he couldn’t go to the store without a list or else it would be guaranteed that he’d forget something or buy the wrong things. He made the call to Scott and sent a quick text to Clint, letting him know what had happened and where they’d be for the weekend if they needed him for something, also letting Clint know that he wouldn’t be able to make his normal opening Sunday shift that week. Pocketing his phone with his wallet and keys, Bucky put together a bag for the dogs and then put the bag near his and Steve’s.

Walking to the bottom of the stairs, Bucky called out, “Kevin? You doin’ alright?”

“All packed, Papa!” Kevin called back, hurrying down the stairs with two backpacks and Avenger. He put the bags down and headed for the kitchen. “Do we need the doggie beds or just food, Papa?” he asked.

“I already got the food and bowls,” Bucky answered, “but, we can grab their beds, too.”

Nodding, Kevin detoured to go get the dog beds. He looked into the living room and smiled to see TJ sleeping. “He’s feeling less sick, I think,” Kevin said from experience. “It’s the losing time I hate the most. I never know how long everything took.” He looked over at Bucky hesitantly. “I didn’t know it was so scary to see, Papa. I just thought it was scary to feel.”

Placing a kiss on Kevin’s head, Bucky nodded, “I know, Tiger.” In his pocket, Bucky’s phone buzzed to let him know that Scott had arrived, “okay, guys. Ride’s here. Let’s get to the clinic?” The brunet bent to grab the bags, letting Kevin carry the light dog beds.

Steve came out with TJ in his arms, held securely. “If we need to make a second trip, that’s okay, guys. No overdoing it.” He carried the sleeping boy to the vehicle and let Scott lay down the front passenger seat. Steve laid TJ on the seat and belted him in. He turned to go help the others get the bags and dog supplies. Once the SUV was loaded, Steve turned to Bucky and softly asked, “you got everything, babe?”

“I think so?” Bucky patted his pockets, double checking he had everything, “thanks, Steve.”

Steve smiled and kissed Bucky's forehead. “Any excuse to do this, love,” he said then climbed in, offering his hand to Bucky, as if beckoning him.

Giving Steve a soft smile, Bucky took his husband’s hand and got into the car, flashing a worried smile to Scott, “hey, Scott. How’s Cassie doin’?” He tried to keep the mood light.

“She’s fine. Looking forward to school starting already. Says she’ll be in class with your two boys.” Scott grinned, checked to see everyone was fastened in, and said, “I see you got the dogs now? That’s great. What’s their names again?” He acted as if he’d never seen the one having a seizure, though his eyes showed his concern.

“The white one is Malakai, he’s TJ’s, and the German Shepherd is Avenger, and he’s Kevin’s,” Bucky answered, looking at the dogs and then back at the driver.

“Malakai, huh? The messenger? Good name! And Avenger . . . like them. Howdy, Malakai and Avenger.” Scott pulled carefully into traffic. “So, the clinic, right?”

“Right,” Bucky confirmed with a nod, settling back in his seat completely. He ran his fingers through Malakai’s fur, the Siberian Husky not taking his eyes off TJ.

As Scott carefully drove through the noon New York traffic, he asked, “Avenger can sense seizures, huh? Smart dog. Better than most people. What’s Malakai’s super power?”

Seeing TJ’s half awake status, Kevin grinned. “Malakai eats nightmares.”

TJ blinked slowly, looking confused, “wha’ happened?”

“You had a seizure, baby,” Steve told the boy again. “Avenger sensed it and protected you. We’re on our way to see Bruce to find out what he can do for you and Kevin.”

“Never . . . never had one before?” TJ muttered.

“We know, Teej,” Steve said gently, reaching forward to stroke TJ’s hair. “Just rest, baby. We’ll be there soon. You still feeling sick? Headache? Or just lethargic and listless?”

“Feel like I can’t move . . .” TJ answered softly, his head turning up so he could meet Steve’s eyes.

“That’s normal, TJ. Your brain’s nerves fired the wrong way and now your body is trying to remember how to do things properly. It will wear off. It does for Kevin every time.” Steve stroked again.

Luckily it didn’t take too much longer for them to get to the clinic. As Scott put the car in park, Bucky said, “thanks, Scott. You’re the best.”

Nodding, Scott said, “take your time, guys. I’ve got no one more important to take care of today. You’re my number one family.”

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded and opened the door, slipping out and holding it open for Kevin and the dogs. Once they were out, Bucky moved to grab the bags again.

Kevin began helping his adoptive father as Steve carefully got TJ out of the car and into a secure embrace. He carried the slim boy inside, calling for Sharon, who’d been switched to days after all those years on nights.

Sharon came forwards and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw TJ in Steve’s arms, she was very used to seeing Kevin in such a state, not the quiet twelve year old who Steve and Bucky had taken in over the summer, following the tragedy that took TJ’s family. “Steve? What happened?” she asked after telling another nearby nurse to get Bruce.

“TJ had a seizure, almost three minutes long. The information is in the back of this journal. The rest of the book is about Kevin over the past summer.” Steve laid TJ down on the bed Sharon led him to. “He’s never had a seizure before and we don’t know why it’s started now. He never had one on vacation with us.”

“Any head injuries?” Sharon asked, checking the boy over until Bruce got there.

Shaking his head, Steve said, “none that I know of.”

From behind the family, Bruce said, “how are you feeling, TJ?” He walked over and smiled at the boy, pushing his glassed up his nose from where they’d slid. “How sick do you feel?”

“Feel . . . sleepy? And my head kinda hurts? But Steve gave me medicine,” TJ answered honestly, looking at the doctor.

“Good,” Bruce nodded. “A sound idea to try to ease your pain, since he knows what he can give for Kevin’s seizures.” Bruce sat on the rolling stool. “Has this ever happened to you before, TJ?”

TJ shook his head, “no . . . never had a seizure before.”

“And, TJ, when the car accident happened? Were you in the accident, too?” Bruce asked.

Frowning fiercely, TJ shook his head, “no . . . was bein’ punished.”

Nodding, Bruce shone a light in TJ’s eyes, one after the other. “And did you hit your head since coming to New York?”

“No?” TJ shook his head again.

“Good, eat anything you’ve never tried before? Or maybe something that didn’t taste like it should?” Bruce performed a variety of tests on TJ as he asked questions. Finally, after satisfied the boy had no reason to be having seizures except environmental or internal, Bruce slid back a little. “Well, we’ve narrowed down the culprits. Need to do a hazard sweep of your property and some internal tests on TJ and Kevin. On the phone I was told Kevin’s seizures have increased?”

Bucky, who’d been watching the process intently, nodded and looked at Bruce, “yes, Kevin had two yesterday. And by looking in his journal, they’ve increased to, on average, about two to three a week.”

“And he didn’t tell you sooner?” Bruce sighed. “About when did this increase happen? Did it coincide with TJ’s coming to live with you?” Bruce reached for the journal.

Frowning softly, Bucky shook his head, “this was TJ’s first seizure and from what I can tell, Kevin’s increase started a few months ago.”

Sighing, Bruce looked at Bucky. “So, yes? No? Did the increase happen around the time TJ came to live with you? June, wasn’t it?”

Looking at Steve and then back to Bruce, Bucky nodded slowly, “I guess so?”

“So,” TJ murmured, frowning, “I’m causing Kevin’s seizures?”

Bruce shook his head, smiling. “Not at all, TJ. He’s an epileptic. His brain is wired differently and causes the seizures when it misfires. It’s a slim possibility that increased worry over you may be triggering the increase, but highly doubtful. What is more likely is that at the time you came to live with your cousins, something else changed as well. Maybe a new piece of equipment which is malfunctioning, something in the groundwater changed because of the tremors most of us never feel happening below our feet, that kind of thing. I’m trying to narrow a time frame. You see, you may not have had a seizure when you were first exposed to whatever caused Kevin’s increase. So, it’s important to figure out how long you’ve been exposed to whatever it is. Then we may narrow things down even further. Make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess?” TJ looked at Bruce and then Steve.

Steve frowned, trying to think what other changes might have happened to them in June. “I’m not sure what other changes would have happened. No new machines or tech. No changes in the taste or color of the water. The carbon monoxide detector hasn’t gone off and I checked the batteries just last week.”

“And I don’t think I’ve been buying any new groceries or anything like that,” Bucky said with a worried frown. How were they supposed to protect their children from something they didn’t know?

Bruce nodded. “Okay, test time, guys. We’ll run some blood work on both of them, then the scans. Ready to camp out in one of our apartments for a couple of days?” The doctor stood up and stroked TJ’s wet curls. “We’ll figure this out, TJ. You’ll be okay.”

TJ slowly nodded and looked at his adoptive parents, “you . . . you guys don’t gotta stay here if you want to go home? I . . . I’m sorry for ruining the weekend . . .”

Looking puzzled, Steve asked, “how’d you ruin anything, baby? You’re sick. Sick gets a free pass. I plan to stay here as long as you and Kevin need me. If I have to, I’ll call Mr. Fisk and explain his painting will need to wait.” Steve hugged TJ. “Family first, and you’re family!” None of the family was in a condition to need Maria Stark’s Free Clinic at the moment, but Steve trusted the staff there to take care of them right. He paid for their full medical care and made sizeable donations regularly, which allowed them to remain as patients without needing the restraining orders that got them into the place all those years before.

“I . . . I don’t wanna be sick,” TJ murmured softly, eyes burning with tears though he didn’t let them spill over.

“Me neither,” Kevin sighed and stood up. “I want the tests, please. I wanna know why I got so worse.”

Steve hugged TJ again then scooped him up. “Let’s get those tests. Sooner we figure out what happened, the sooner we can figure out how to correct it, right?” He carried the boy out, following Sharon and Kevin.

Bruce nodded and started gathering his stuff so he could go, too. He gave Bucky a smile. “How’re you holding up, Bucky?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured the doctor, “it’s just been a . . . crazy summer.”

Nodding, Bruce said, “I’m here if you need someone to talk to.” He began cleaning the different objects he’d used with TJ.

“Nothing you don’t already know, Bruce,” Bucky stated with a sigh, “Ava being a teenager. Kevin’s worsening seizures. And TJ’s trauma . . . and now _him_ having a seizure, too?” The brunet shook his head.

“Where does TJ sleep in the house?” Bruce asked, almost casually.

“When he _does_ sleep,” Bucky informed softly, eyes worried, “in Kevin’s room, we’re working on an addition for him, but it’s not ready yet. Last night he slept on the couch though, in the living room.”

Bruce looked over, eyes widening. “And when did the construction start? About the time Kevin’s seizures got worse?” He leapt on the possible explanation.

“I guess?” Bucky answered, tilting his head, “but Kevin’s been with us through construction before.”

“Definitely need an environmental scan of your place, Bucky. The new construction might have hit a pocket of gas or something.” Bruce walked over and began lifting Bucky’s shirt, checking the prosthetic and the flesh. “How’s the arm? A bit raw looking.”

“Uh . . .” Bucky blinked a few times, looking down at his arm, “wore it too long a few days ago.”

“Physical therapy still going well?” Bruce asked with a nod, lowering the shirt again and beginning to check Bucky’s eyes and reflexes.

“Yeah, it’s going fine,” Bucky said. He looked at Bruce, seeming a bit nervous, “I’m not the one sick, Doc.”

“Memory loss still happening? How’s Becca doing? Has Ava been to see her recently?” Bruce kept up with his routine questions until finally he asked, “I see there’s a stuffed wolf in the luggage you brought. I heard they got a new wolf down at the zoo. Have you taken the kids to see it?”

“The zoo?” Bucky blinked, thinking about the last time they’d been to the zoo, when Ava was little . . . when they’d met Steve and _Brock_. Bucky’s pale eyes flashed with intense worry and fear, “you gotta help me . . .”

Bruce paused and looked at Bucky. “What’s wrong, Bucky?” he asked calmly.

“Need to get Ava safe . . .” Bucky murmured, eyes flickering nervously around the room, voice lowering as if he was trying to keep what he said secret.

Bruce leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “Is Ave in trouble? Is someone hurting her?”

“He threatens to hurt her . . . gotta do what he says,” Bucky said, scared pale eyes meeting Bruce’s. “Gotta do what he says or he’s gonna hurt her.”

“And what’s he want you to do, Bucky?” Bruce asked, sounding calm and reassuring, like someone trustworthy and concerned for Bucky’s family. “Has he hurt _you_?”

“Hits me . . . chains me up,” Bucky let out a whimper, “can’t let him hurt Ava. Please, you gotta help her.”

Nodding, Bruce said, “of course we can help Ava. We can help you and the kids. When did he start abusing you, Bucky?” Bruce carefully drew a needle of Bucky’s panic medicine, the stuff for when Bucky got really bad.

“Hasn’t had me for long . . .” Bucky swallowed thickly, looking around the room.

Nodding, Bruce lifted Bucky’s right sleeve and gave him the shot. He asked, carefully, “Bucky, what year is it?” He held up a hand when Steve and the boys came back, not wanting to distract Bucky . . . or frighten him if Steve was the abuser, which seemed doubtful but Bruce had seen a lot in his time at the clinic.

“2006,” Bucky said on a shaky breath, eyes wide with fear.

Kevin opened his mouth, and Bruce waved him quiet, concentrating on the man rather than the frightened boy. Sharon took both children from the room, guiding them to their new apartment. Bruce leaned closer, “Bucky, where’s Steve?”

“Steve?” Bucky looked confused and he shook his head, “haven’t seen Steve since we had a fight in high school.”

“And who chains you up, Bucky?” Bruce asked, making Steve’s eyes go wide in shock.

Bucky’s brows furrowed, memories flashing and drifting away, coming together all at once so he couldn’t make any sense of them. “Brock?” Bucky let out another whimper.

Bruce signaled Steve into the room and the blond approached carefully. “Bucky? It’s Steve. Ava’s safe. You feeling better?” He wasn’t sure what to do.

Head snapping to the direction of Steve’s voice, Bucky looked even more confused, “Steve? What . . . why are you here?”

Walking over, Steve could only think of one thing to do to try to break Bucky’s flashback. He cupped his husband’s face and kissed him, crashing their lips together.

Bucky made a surprised noise against Steve’s lips, his body stiffening in the blond’s arms. After a few moments, Bucky seemed to relax slightly and he started to kiss back.

As he felt Bucky relaxing, Steve pulled back and touched foreheads. “I’m here because I’m your husband, baby, and I love you so much. The boys are done their testing. You okay?”

“I . . . I . . .” Bucky blinked a few times, eyes roving the room before looking back at Steve, “I don’t remember you guys leaving? I’m . . . sorry?”

Bruce relaxed, smiling worriedly. “Bucky, you had a flashback and wound up slipping into dissociation. You said it was the same year Ava was five or six and that you were a prisoner and needed help getting Ava out of danger. Does any of that make sense to you?”

“Make sense? No,” Bucky shook his head, frowning severely, “I . . . I don’t think I’ve had a flashback before? It’s been years since . . .”

Steve stroked Bucky’s back. “I get them sometimes, Bucky. But I usually don’t slip into dissociation. Bruce? Could whatever is affecting the boys being triggering Bucky?”

Bruce shook his head, “more likely its stress. But we can run tests, see if your meds are balanced. See if any possible environmental toxins show up. We should do you, too, Steve. It’s time for your med checks anyway.” Bruce sighed and looked around. Eyes falling on Kevin’s journal, the doctor nodded. “Bucky, I want you to start keeping a journal of flashbacks, what triggers them, how you feel and fear. If you dissociate again, notate how you were brought out of it and what others noticed while you were lost?”

“Okay,” Bucky drawled, still looking confused.

“And, I think you guys might consider staying longer than the weekend. Some of the tests take a couple of weeks or more. If it is environmental, you’re safer in the clinic while we figure that out,” Bruce suggested.

Bucky looked at Steve, “I . . . I guess we can do that?”

Nodding, Steve said, “look, Bucky, I need to finish that commission, but I’ll wear a mask while I work, just in case. I’ll set myself only three hours a day in the mornings and come back here, okay? While I’m gone, maybe the staff can keep an eye out in case you need help? I mean, it’s possible both boys might have seizures at the same time . . . we can put baby monitors in their rooms?” His mind worked a mile a minute to try to figure out how to help his vulnerable, scared family.

“Yeah . . . baby monitors might be good,” Bucky agreed with a nod.

Bruce nodded. “I’ll get everything arranged. Now, why don’t we get you two tested then reunite you with your boys?”


	6. No One Uneffected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Heart scare, breathing problems, medical procedures**

By the time Bucky woke up, the sun was well past early morning and going to about eleven o’clock. The bed beside him was empty and cold, Steve nowhere to be found. The entire room was unfamiliar for a few moments. Softly, the sound of a door close by opened and closed, but no one entered the small bedroom with the plain furniture.

Blinking, Bucky sat up in the bed; he hadn’t slept in that late in a very long time. He slowly slipped out from beneath the covers and padded out to the main living area of the clinic apartment. “Steve?” Bucky called softly, not wanting to wake either Kevin or TJ if they were still sleeping.

Steve turned, already stripped out of his shirt and hands working at his belt. He smelled of sunshine and fresh paint. “Hey,” he said softly, smiling. “Was painting. Got some more done. The light was just right this morning. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I slept for nearly twelve hours?” Bucky ran his hand through his long hair.

“Well, it’s almost eleven and you went to bed around one in the afternoon, so, almost twenty-four.” Steve didn’t come closer, beginning to remove his jeans.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded slowly, looking around the quiet living area, “where are the boys?”

“I left them sleeping in their rooms. TJ’s got the television from the living room so he can sleep. Did you check them yet?” Steve headed towards the master bedroom, carrying his bundle of clothes, dressed only in his boxers.

“Uh . . . I just woke up? I haven’t checked on anyone,” Bucky followed Steve into the bedroom. “So, you already painted for today?”

Nodding, grinning, Steve said, “yup. And gonna shower and throw these in the laundry so I’m not bringing anything back from the house, just in case.” Steve offered Bucky a smile and put his clothes in the infectious laundry bag he’d arranged for his clothes during their stay. He got into the shower. “You feeling better than yesterday? No headache or anything?”

Shaking his head, Bucky answered, “no, I don’t have a headache . . . I actually feel fine.” He’d followed Steve into the bathroom but didn’t join his husband in the shower.

Steve didn’t linger over his shower, stepping out within five minutes. He smiled and leaned in to kiss Bucky. “Love you, doll,” he almost purred. “I’ve been thinking about the flashback. I remember dissociating severely once before, actually.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, looking at his husband.

“Yeah, we fought over Kevin’s parentage and you left. I dissociated then. I cleaned pretty much the entire house, much like Brock would have expected me to.” Steve sighed and stroked Bucky’s cheek. “It was the worst three days in my life.”

Bucky sighed softly and leaned his forehead against Steve’s, “I couldn’t imagine . . . if I had been in your place. I have no idea what I would’ve done.”

“Well, here’s hoping it never, ever happens.” Steve kissed Bucky’s lips. “Hey, while the kids are both sleeping safely, wanna fool around?” He smiled suggestively.

Grinning, Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “hmm . . . sounds heavenly, Cap.” He leaned forward to kiss the blond, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip, tugging it gently.

Letting out a soft groan, Steve said, “God, I love you. Let’s get the lube cause I’m gonna fill my Bucky Bear so full . . .” He gently tugged his husband towards the bed.

Bucky let himself be tugged, his member already beginning to fill with anticipation. “Yes, Stevie . . . wanna be filled . . .”

Laughing low in his throat, ending in a purr of desire, Steve lifted Bucky into his wet arms, having never bothered to dry off after his shower. He tossed Bucky onto the bed and followed him, kissing fiercely. Steve began nipping Bucky’s neck lightly and moving to right behind his ear, where Steve knew Bucky was extra sensitive. “Mine,” he growled.

Mewling softly, Bucky extended his neck for Steve’s attention, “yes, ‘m yours. Always, Stevie.”

Steve nipped right behind Bucky’s ear then lapped at the redness. “Gonna be so good, baby. Haven't had much time for each other recently.” Steve lifted his head and grinned. “So damn heavy for you.” He slid his cock and balls against Bucky’s clothed thigh.

“Please, Stevie . . .” Bucky begged breathlessly, blown eyes meeting Steve’s bright blue ones. “I need you . . .” He wrapped his arm around his husband’s neck, bringing the blond closer.

“Kinda hard to fill you up with that cock block, baby,” Steve stroked his hand down Bucky’s clothed hip. “Gonna get naked?”

Letting out another mewl, Bucky unwound his arm from Steve’s neck to pull off his sweats and boxers, throwing them blindly away. Once naked, Bucky looked up at Steve, “now?” He begged with a needy purr.

“Now, baby,” Steve agreed on a growl. He poured lube directly onto Bucky’s ass and ran his fingers through it, massaging his husband’s rosebud with questing fingers.

Bucky’s hips canted up to meet Steve’s fingers, urging them deeper, “please, Steve . . .”

Kissing Bucky, Steve slid two fingers into his lover, knowing that after all these years, Bucky could take the stretching. He began thrusting, stroking over Bucky’s prostate with every third thrust of his fingers. “Gonna be all hot and tight for me, Buck? I love being inside you. Perfect for me.”

“Yes, yes,” Bucky groaned softly, cheeks flushing with arousal, “wanna feel you in me, Stevie . . . God, we don’t do this enough . . .” His hips rolled with the thrusts, taking his husband’s fingers even deeper.

Twisting his fingers, scissoring carefully as he thrust, Steve worked his husband opened wider, intent on making Bucky comfortable for his coming intrusion. Steve was not a small man by any means and knew from long experience how to stretch Bucky quickly but well. He stroked Bucky’s prostate again, kissing behind his husband’s ear. “Looking forward to pumping you full of my cum, Buck.”

Bucky let out a low moan. He always loved how Steve talked to him in bed; the blond knew just what to say and how to say it to drive Bucky crazy. Mewling softly, Bucky begged, “please, want that, Stevie . . . want that so bad . . .”

Finally satisfied he’d opened up his husband sufficiently, Steve gripped his own cock and ran it through the excess lube in his husband’s crack. He positioned himself then began his long, slow slide into his lover. It took a moment before Steve bottomed out, balls slapping into Bucky’s ass. “Mine,” he growled.

“Yes, your’s,” Bucky confirmed on a high moan, loving how Steve filled him just right, almost to the point of being _too_ full. “Feel so right, Steve,” Bucky keened, wrapping his arm around Steve’s neck; his powerful legs coiling tight around Steve’s waist, pushing the blond in even deeper.

Steve moaned and began kissing and nipping Bucky’s neck. He started slowly, thrusting inside his husband, canting his hips enough to drag over Bucky’s prostate once in awhile. “Love . . . you . . . Buc . . . ky . . . Bear . . .”

“Love you, too,” Bucky keened between thrusts, moving with Steve’s rhythm. “So . . . much . . .”

Steve fell silent then, panting as he continued to thrust, picking up his pace as he made love to his husband. It didn’t take long before he felt his balls getting heavy, lifting, his shaft swelling in preparation for release. “Gonna . . . cum . . . Buck . . .”

Nodding, Bucky let out another moan and let go of Steve so he could reach down to wrap his fingers around his own shaft, pumping in time with his husband’s thrusts. “Almost . . . there, Stevie . . .” Bucky panted.

Nodding, Steve concentrated on holding off his orgasm, reaching a hand over to help stroke Bucky’s balls and shaft. “Cum . . . for . . . me . . . babe,” he panted, kissing and nipping, stroking and thrusting.

Groaning, Bucky’s shaft twitched before he covered their abdomens and hands with thick white cum. His walls tightening around Steve’s shaft with his orgasm. As he came, Bucky felt Steve release his own load as well, deep and hot in his ass.

Steve slowed his thrusting as he came until he stopped, embedded deeply in Bucky, ignoring the cum and lube slipping out around his cock. He continued to kiss his husband, nipping softly at Bucky’s plush lips. Sighing, he said, “the love . . . of my . . . life,” still catching his breath.

Smiling against Steve lips, Bucky said softly, “I love you, too, Stevie . . . always.”

A knock on the bedroom door drew the attention of both adults. Kevin’s voice came softly. “Dad? Papa? We’re up. Do you want coffee?”

“Give us a sec!” Bucky called out, thankful that Kevin hadn’t opened the door.

Steve carefully pulled from his lover, still breathing hard. He rolled to his back and let out a moan. “God, feel . . . like my . . . oxygen . . .” He’d been given an oxygen tank and a system to use while sleeping since his heart and asthma had contrived to give him troubles at night.

Pushing up, Bucky looked at Steve, eyes a bit worried, “you okay?”

Steve met Bucky’s eyes and shook his head. “Get . . . tank . . .”

Nodding, Bucky hurried out of the bed and got Steve’s oxygen tank all situated before helping the mask onto the blond’s face. He wondered briefly if they should talk with Bruce about Steve having sex, if there were any precautions they could take to avoid any issues.

Breathing his oxygen, eyes wide in concern, Steve watched Bucky. He’d never had problems like this when loving his husband before. The tank was a precaution for sleeping. He wondered if his heart had gotten worse.

Kevin knocked again. “Papa? Dad? Everything okay?” The boy sounded worried.

“Can you and TJ go get Bruce, Tiger?” Bucky called back, quickly grabbing his sweats nearby and pulling them on. He sat back down next to his husband.

“Okay,” Kevin could be heard running off.

Bucky kept close to Steve, muttering words of encouragement to his husband to try and keep the blond’s breathing steady.

Bruce arrived very quickly, the boys following. When the doctor saw what was happening, smelling the sex in the room, he said, “TJ, Kevin, why don’t you take your dogs into the back courtyard to go bathroom. I’ll take care of Dad for you.” As the boys obeyed, Bruce began checking the large blond. “Tell me what precisely happened. You were having sex and . . .” Bruce said, firmly.

“We . . . uh . . . finished? And he . . . he couldn’t catch his breath?” Bucky said, moving away to give Bruce plenty of room to work.

Nodding, Bruce took some blood work and ran it through his portable testing equipment. He looked relieved. “No signs of a heart attack, at least. I’d say you did put a strain on your heart though, Steve. Gotta take it easy.” The man looked thoughtful. “Maybe take a less dominant role in the bedroom? Lay on your side or back?” The doctor shook his head. “With your heart, you might have to start avoiding sex altogether, but let's try relaxation poses first.”

“We can try that,” Bucky nodded, his arm wrapped around his middle. “And that’s all we can do? Try different . . . poses?”

“Oxygen, and healthy diet and a special exercise routine, all of which he’s already doing, Bucky. We’ve checked his meds, so if any adjustments are needed, we can do that, too.” Bruce listened to Steve’s heart just to verify his other readings.

Bucky nodded again, looking at Steve with worried eyes, “okay . . . thanks, Bruce. Just have him take it easy today?”

Smiling, relieved at his findings, Bruce nodded. “Exactly. He can come off the oxygen and we’ll make sure his tank stays up. I want Steve to stay in bed or a chair. No cooking or cleaning for him. No running after dogs and little boys. Total rest.”

“Okay, we can do that,” Bucky assured the doctor, “total rest. We can all have a relaxing day today. We all need it.”

“You _all_ need it,” Bruce confirmed. He patted Steve’s knee. “Get a slow bath, let Bucky help you, and get comfortable in a chair. No painting tomorrow, either. Want you safe in the clinic while we wait for your results.” He stood and headed towards the door then stopped. “Bucky, you feeling okay?”

“So far so good?” Bucky offered the doctor a small smile.

“And the boys? Any more seizures in the night?” Bruce offered a smile over his shoulder.

“I don’t think so? The meds you gave me pretty much knocked me out. I didn’t wake up until Steve got home from painting,” Bucky answered, rubbing the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish.

“None while I was aware and here,” Steve confirmed, finally having caught his breath. He offered a smile to Bucky, trying to reassure his husband. “Always said you steal my breath, baby . . .”

Snorting softly, Bucky rolled his eyes playfully, “next time try and keep your breath, yeah? You scared me, you punk.”

“Well, jerk, you love me far too well to keep control. Can’t help it,” Steve quipped, grinning wider. The sound of the boys returning came to them and Steve pulled the sheet over his still messy lap.

TJ looked inside, still looking a bit tired but overall a lot better than when Bucky had last seen him. “You . . . guys okay?” He asked softly, looking a little worried. Malakai stayed closeby, panting and wagging his tail happily.

“Well, Teej, baby,” Steve looked over at his husband’s cousin, “you know I have a heart problem, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah?” TJ nodded, looking at Kevin and then back at Steve.

“Well, I had an incident this morning. Gotta rest more.,” Steve answered, smiling.

“Oh, okay,” TJ said, “Doctor Bruce says I gotta rest today, too.”

“Then let’s all rest together. Gotta get a bath then we can watch television. Okay?” Steve suggested. “Maybe Kevin can make us all breakfast? Or Lunch.”

“I can help,” TJ offered easily, “makin’ lunch isn’t that hard. Right, Doctor Bruce?” The twelve year old looked to the doctor.

“No, it isn’t. You can microwave soup or make sandwiches,” Bruce suggested. “And that’s not something I want Steve doing. But you, TJ, you’re allowed.”

“C’mon, Kevin,” TJ gave the smaller boy a crooked grin, “let’s go make lunch.”

Nodding, giving his parents a worried look, Kevin followed TJ from the room. “Okay. I can make the soup.”

“Alright,” Bucky said, turning to Steve, “let’s get ya cleaned up, yeah?”

Bruce left after the boys, and Steve nodded. “A bath. Sorry, baby, about this.”

“Remember? Sick gets a free pass?” Bucky offered his husband a soft smile and then moved to help Steve off the bed and into the bathroom where he settled the blond into the tub. He ran the water making sure it was a good temperature before putting the stopper in. “How’re you feeling now, Stevie?” Bucky asked softly, grabbing a washcloth and soap to begin washing his lover.

“Feel a lot better. Still a little breathless but much better. There wasn’t any heart pain, at least. I think it was an asthma attack. Been awhile, but it sure felt like one.” Steve caught Bucky’s hand. “I love you, Buck . . .”

Meeting Steve’s eyes, Bucky offered another smile, “I love you, too, Steve. We’ll figure this out, okay? Just like we’re gonna figure everything else out.”

Steve slowly sat up and said, “do you think what’s making everyone else sick is affecting me, too?”

“Maybe?” Bucky said with a soft shrug and a sigh. “But, you have a weak heart, Stevie. Most likely it was just the strain . . . you were going . . . uh . . . pretty hard?”

Frowning softly, Steve said, “did I hurt you, baby? You’ve never had a problem with hard before . . . have you?”

“What? No,” Bucky shook his head, giving Steve another smile, “you didn’t hurt me and you haven’t before. I’m just saying that you’re getting older, ya know? We might just have to . . . tame it down? If that makes sense?”

Nodding, Steve sighed and relaxed in the tub once more. “Okay. Still, feel like I shouldn’t be too old to love you.” Steve glanced towards the doorway to their bedroom. “Think Kevin and TJ are okay? I tried to be honest . . . but I don’t want to scare them, either.”

Continuing to wash his husband, Bucky said, “they looked okay. A little worried, but hopefully after I get you washed up and we’re able to watch some movies as a family, they’ll relax a bit more.”

Nodding, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand again and kissed his fingers. He let Bucky go, not interfering further, wanting to get out to the boys as soon as he could. The less he worried about them, the better he’d be following Bruce’s directives, he knew. “At least the sex was still mind-blowing,” he smiled softly.

Laughing softly, Bucky nodded, “it was, wasn’t it?” He finished washing Steve’s chest and moved to carefully wash his pelvis. The brunet made sure to clean every inch, much like Steve had done with TJ the day before. After he was done, Bucky helped Steve up and out of the bathtub. He dried off the blond and guided him back into the bedroom where he got Steve some fresh clothes.

Steve slowly sat on a chair and began dressing, not interfering while Bucky cleaned the bed, though he really wanted to be the one to do that. Steve took great pride in keeping the house clean for his family. “Hard to rest when there’s things to be done, huh?” he asked.

“You can handle one day, Steve,” Bucky laughed, tossing a grin over at his husband as he finished stripping the bed and putting the soiled sheets in the laundry hamper. The brunet quickly put clean sheets on the bed, only struggling a little as he wasn’t entirely used to completely making beds with one hand. He didn’t want to wear his prosthetic that day, taking Bruce’s instructions to rest to heart. “Let us take care of you for a day, Stevie.” Bucky turned back to his husband.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Steve rose slowly, letting Bucky help him. He walked sedately into the living room and sank onto the couch, so he could cuddle with his husband. He smiled towards the kitchenette. “Smells good, boys. Is that peanut butter and jelly? And chicken soup?”

“Kevin said you liked chicken soup,” TJ said to the Steve as he made the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, “and it’s _technically_ chicken noodle soup. But, same thing really.”

“Oh,” Steve chuckled, “chicken _noodle_ soup. Well, I think I can handle that. It’s only my favorite.”

Smiling, TJ looked over his shoulder at Kevin who stirred the soup and then back over at the two adults on the couch. “Well, good, Kevin’s makin’ enough to feed like twenty people,” he teased. This was the happiest that Bucky had seen TJ since the accident; maybe the few nights of rest had really helped. He could only hope that with continued love and encouragement TJ would be able to be that happy boy from just the year before again.

Kevin grinned at the other boy. “Dad eats like at least ten,” he teased back.

Steve burst out into a laugh, arm crossing over his chest, head thrown back.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bucky laughed softly, cuddling next to his husband’s side.

“Oh!” Steve pulled his phone off the coffee table and handed it to Bucky. “I took photos of my progress on the painting. What do you think?” Steve clicked through until he got to several shots of the commissioned work.

Bucky pulled away and looked at the _Sunset_ commission Steve had been working on for several weeks now. The brunet tilted his head slightly, “are you using different paints or something? Something looks different. Or does the painting look different because it’s on the phone?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled and turned to the vibrant, almost pearly looking colors. “Senator Fisk, the man who commissioned the painting, imported these specialty paints that have this pearly effect. He insisted that I’m only to use these paints and I’m to keep applying for more from him as I need them.”

Bucky scrunched his nose at the mention of Senator Fisk, the businessman who apparently had become quite the fan of Steve’s work, had always rubbed Bucky the wrong way. The brunet couldn’t even say _why_ he disliked the man; something about his eerily quiet voice and his practically reclusive behavior always set Bucky on edge . . . plus, the large man always looked at people as if trying to figure out their weaknesses.

“He wanted a series if he liked this one, but I haven’t agreed. Since I’m taking a break after this one, I’ll let him know it’ll be sometime before I can take up more commissions from him.” Cuddling Bucky and smiling at the sunrise he’d been working on, Steve added, “he’s the one who offered to give me a larger studio in Manhattan and let me hire a few assistants.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ about that yesterday,” Bucky nodded, still looking at the device in his hand.

Kevin slowly made his way over to the pair with a tray, a bowl of soup, a plated sandwich, and a glass of juice all situated on the tray. Behind him was TJ with a second tray. “Here, Dad. Papa. Lunch,” he beamed happily.

TJ concentrated on not dropping the full tray as he walked behind Kevin. He carefully placed the tray on the coffee table and smiled softly at the adults. “Hope you guys are hungry,” he said.

“Starved,” laughed Steve, grabbing the spoon and beginning to blow on a helping of the soup.

Bucky smiled at the boys, “thanks, guys, this looks great,” he picked of his sandwich and began nibbling at it. He looked at his husband and swallowed his bite before asking, “have you talked with Ava at all?”

“Talked to Ava about what, Buck?” Steve asked, smiling and taking a sip of the soup. He sighed happily.

Bucky answered and added, “I don’t know . . . just checked in?”

“Haven’t called her this morning yet. Figured she’d be sleeping in,” Steve shrugged and bit into his sandwich.

Nodding, Bucky sipped at his juice, “you’re probably right. Wonder what they did? I know earlier this week Becca had a few ideas . . . she was excited,” the brunet took another bite of his sandwich.

Steve smiled as he drank some juice and scooped up more soup, watching Kevin carry a tray over for himself. “Becca said something about water parks, right? I think Ava packed her swimsuit.” He shook his head. “Of course, since Ava’s grounded, Becca may have changed her plans completely.” Looking over with a frown, Steve asked. “You didn’t call Becca, did you? I didn’t think to check . . .” Steve wiped off his hands and took his phone from the table once more, dialing.

TJ set his tray on the coffee table, sitting on the floor opposite of the two adults. He frowned softly and looked down at his plate. He felt bad for Ava, for her being grounded, and he didn’t want her mad at him, even if she’d apologized the day before.

“Hello, Becca? It’s Steve. I wondered if Bucky managed to call you yesterday before we dropped off Ava to tell you about her punishment?” His eyes met Buck’s and he added, “no. She broke the security rules and left the system off. She also snuck a boy in at night. She’s grounded and we got so busy we forgot to make sure you knew.” Several minutes passed before Steve nodded and said “thanks, Becca. We’ll come get her on Monday, like we arranged.” Steve hung up and said, “well, Ava didn’t get to a water park yet. They stayed at the apartment talking about Hank yesterday instead.”

“Sorry, Steve,” Bucky said, taking a bite of his soup, “with everything, I just forgot to call Becca.”

“Hey, we all forgot in the excitement and confusion yesterday. It’s okay. Monday we should hear more, too, with some of the preliminary tests coming in. And we’ve got the journals to work on for Bruce to see at the next appointment.” Steve smiled at the entire family, still eating his lunch.

“Is that also on Monday?” Bucky asked, opening one of the journals and seeing the report Bruce had typed up about his flashback.

“Bruce thought it would be best if you came in together. He wants to compare his own thoughts with ours, TJ’s, and Kevin’s. Kind of a group meeting as well as the continued testing. Oh, and I’ll be getting more tests to monitor my heart meds just in case. Bruce thinks that maybe I’ve been doing too much.” Steve fell silent, watching as Bucky reread Bruce’s very vivid description of what had happened in the office once Steve took Kevin and TJ to scans.

Bucky nodded showing he’d heard Steve, though his head was down as he read the report, frowning. The person in the report didn’t even _sound_ like him, it almost sounded like Steve from eleven years ago when he and Bucky had reconnected. “God, it sounded like I was accusing _you_ . . .” the brunet sounded horrified.

Nodding, showing he’d also read the report, Steve said, “on the back, Bruce mentioned that he was concerned at first that I had slid into abusive behavior but after awhile he realized you were having a flashback and dissociating.”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head and flipped to an unused page, he picked up a pen and began jotting down some notes.

Steve reached over and pushed Bucky’s glass further from him so the brunet wouldn’t inadvertently knock it over while writing down what he recalled personally of the flashback.

As if on cue, Kevin pulled over his own journal and began writing things down, offering a smile to TJ. “You write what you remember about your seizure and afterwards. It helps it be less scary and keeps track of it for Doctor Bruce.”

TJ spun his spoon in his steaming soup, watching as the noodles, vegetables, and chicken swirled in the broth. He nodded but didn’t make any moves to grab his own journal that Bruce had insisted on. Writing the experience down would make it more real, and TJ just wanted to forget about it.

Steve reached over to stroke TJ’s curls. “How’s the headache, baby?” he asked softly.

“It’s fine,” TJ murmured, pale eyes flickering up to look at Steve and then back down at his soup.

Bucky took his glass and started taking small sips, “oh! Did I tell you how Kevin and TJ were the ones who made it possible to bring Avenger and Malakai home?” Bucky could tell that TJ was getting morose, so he tried to brighten the mood.

“No, I missed that. Wanna tell me now?” Steve grinned at Bucky, eyes flickering to TJ then Kevin, who smiled and turned to listen to his fathers speaking.

“So, we get to the kennel and tell the lady at the front desk, she was new, hadn’t seen her before, that we’re there to pick up Avenger and Malakai,” Bucky looked at Steve, then Kevin and TJ, and then back to Steve, “she tells us they’re claimed . . . _gone_. I tell her that’s not possible because I had just called in the morning to tell them that we were going to pick up Avenger and Malakai. She’s says that’s not possible, says they were claimed by a _‘James Barnes’_ and aren’t available anymore.”

“But that was because you called for them. Didn't she realize _you_ had claimed them and were just coming to get them?” Steve smiled as he spooned up more soup. He put his phone on the coffee table once more.

“That’s what I was _trying_ explain!” Bucky laughed at the memory, “but she was so focused on the log saying Avenger and Malakai were claimed, that she thought that meant they were _gone_. So, Kevin asks to go pet the dogs, which she allowed, and there were Avenger and Malakai in their kennels.”

Kevin nodded. “She kept saying _claimed_ and _gone_ , but the log book didn’t say they’d been picked up yet. So,” the little boy shrugged, “I figured she didn't remember that they used different words for when someone picked up the dogs. She _was_ new.” TJ nodded his agreement to Kevin’s words but didn’t speak up.

Bucky nodded, smiling, as he looked at his husband, “Kevin and TJ were brilliant . . . even I didn’t think about that and I’d looked at the log book.”

“But, Papa, We’d been there for training and heard the other staff people say it before. I remember everything.” He smiled at Bucky and took his hand for a quick squeeze before relinquishing it so Bucky could use his hand.

The brunet finished off the last of his juice and looked over at Steve’s phone as it rang. “I’ll get it,” Bucky offered as he reached forward to grab the device; he answered it without even looking just after the third ring, “Hello?” Bucky’s face fell and he looked at Steve, “yeah, he’s available. Hold on.” Bucky handed the phone to his husband, “Fisk.”

Nodding, Steve smiled as he answered the phone, going with the old adage that someone could hear your expression in your voice. “Senator Fisk, what a beautiful morning. How are you doing today, sir?” Steve treated Fisk with the social graces the man seemed to expect, even for an unexpected call on a Saturday morning.

“I am very well, thank you, Steve. How are you?” Fisk’s even, calm tone came through the line, quiet but very deep.

“I’m very well, thank you for asking. How can I help you, Senator?” Steve looked at his husband and the two boys, still smiling.

“I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you might want to join me for lunch? I was hoping we could speak further about commissions and the gallery,” the Senator seemed unaware that it was a weekend and most people, if they were free, didn’t like to spend it talking business.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. My family isn’t well and I’d planned to spend the entire weekend looking after them, and the doctor ordered me to house rest for the weekend due to a scare over my heart. I’m also, unfortunately, busy on Monday because of medical appointments for the four of us. I know it’s out of the way, but is it possible to meet on Tuesday at the studio in town, sir? I would love to be able to update you properly on your piece.” Steve didn’t want to tell this man _‘no’_ over the phone; it seemed rude.

“Yes, family is important, and one must think of their well-being before their career,” Fisk sounding approving, not in the least bit upset, “pass on my well-wishes to them, will you? I hope you feel better, as well. I will see you on Tuesday, then, Steve.”

“Thank you, Senator. I look forward to it. And if plans change, due to the medical results, I’ll call you as soon as I know. Have a good day, Senator.”

“You as well,” Fisk answered politely and then the line went dead.

Steve sighed and hung up. “Senator Fisk sends well wishes for you, TJ, and Kevin. I’m to meet him Tuesday about commissions and the studio offer. I’ll be able to tell him I’m not changing things right now.”

“He can keep them,” Bucky grumbled unhappily, “What’s he doin’ calling on a Saturday anyways?”

“He’s in Brooklyn today and wanted to meet. I think he doesn’t consider the weekend as time to take off. I’m sure he takes time for church on Sundays, but that’s about his limit of rest.” Steve dropped a kiss on Bucky’s head.

“Guy gives me the creeps,” Bucky muttered; the call seemed to have ruined the brunet’s jovial mood. “No one is ever that calm, _all the time_.”

Laughing, Steve shook his head, “but, Bucky, we don’t see him all the time. We’ve only seen him a couple of times, not even half an hour each. It’s not that hard to be calm for half an hour, love. Are you finishing your soup, Kevin?”

The blond boy nodded, taking another spoonful and sipping it.

Bucky scrunched his nose, “still creepy.”

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled. “You’re just a man in love who doesn’t want anyone coming in and taking your husband’s time. Can’t blame you. I get jealous if someone tries to take more of your time than normal, too.” Steve winked, leaving the comment light, for once not referencing the very dark possessive behavior of Rumlow that could easily relate to Steve’s remarks.

Humming softly, Bucky looked at Steve, “I should probably call Natasha . . . tell her I’m taking some time off . . . supposed - -” the brunet looked thoughtful for a moment as he recalled his schedule, “supposed to open on Monday . . . I already let Clint know I wouldn’t be in on Sunday.”

“Okay,” Steve grinned widely. He reached over to the charger on the side table next to the couch and plucked out Bucky’s phone and passed it over.

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded. Taking the phone, he walked into the bedroom he shared with Steve as he dialed Nat’s number.

Kevin carried his and Bucky’s empty dishes to the sink, rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher.

Steve went back to eating his lunch, offering TJ a wide, encouraging smile. The twelve year old gave Steve a small smile and then began eating his soup.

In the bedroom, Bucky held the phone to his ear as the call went through.

“Clint, whatcha need,” his friend answered in a very awake voice.

“Oh, hey, Clint,” Bucky looked at the clock on the opposite wall, “oh . . . it’s lunchtime. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Yes, it is. Whatcha need, Buck?” Clint asked, sounding amused.

“I - - I’m gonna need some time off,” Bucky said on a sigh; he didn’t like forcing his friends to find coverage for his shifts, usually making them work long hours.

“My God!” Clint’s voice held a trace of amusement, “you’re really gonna do this to us? Put us through this? Bucky, what am I supposed to do? The twins want extra hours and you’re just _handing_ them to us? Where’s your sense of difficulty?”

Laughing softly, Bucky ran a hand down his face, “you sure it’ll be okay? I can hold off a week if you need to adjust the schedule.”

“If Daniel’s claims are right, he says Ava thinks you’re overworking and need more time off. So, take the time. You rarely ever use that damn vacation and it’s piling up again.” Clint laughed outright.

Frowning softly, Bucky sighed, “yeah . . . I guess I am . . . hopefully it won’t be more than two weeks? I should be able to come back when the kids head back to school.”

“So, going through with it then? Kevin’s starting public school this year with TJ?” Clint’s voice was light and curious.

“God, don’t remind me,” Bucky groaned quietly, “I have enough anxiety as it is . . . his seizures are gettin’ worse, Clint. He had three in twenty-four hours. And now _TJ_ having one? It was nearly three minutes. . .”

The laughter dropped off completely, and Clint sighed, “damn. I know he’s had a few while he’s been in the store. But three in one day? And TJ now? Have you gotten them to Bruce yet?”

“Yeah . . . Steve and I took them yesterday . . . I guess we’re here until at least Monday to get the results,” Bucky sighed and sat on the bed, “and we also had to ground Ava . . . so if she tries to make plans with Daniel or something . . . she can’t?” Bucky ran his hand through his hair.

“Oh, he went over there yesterday for dinner, to Becca’s, but I can tell him to stay away if you want?” Clint didn’t pry to find out what Ava had done to warrant such a drastic punishment. Steve was normally big on discussing things, not grounding.

“Um . . .” Bucky looked towards the room and sighed, “I mean . . . Becca knows now that Ava’s grounded, so, as long as they don’t go anywhere or something . . .” Bucky hard a hard time enforcing the punishment. He still couldn’t believe that Ava would ever turn off the security systems or let some boy sneak in through Kevin and TJ’s window.

“Well, I’ll talk to him anyway, make sure he knows that Ava’s not to be harassed this weekend. He’s got his scout project anyway, so he can just work on that.” Clint seemed to be talking to someone else when he added, “Bucky. Yeah, two weeks.”

“That Nat?” Bucky asked, he loved Clint, but he always felt more comfortable talking about his problems with Natasha.

“Sure is, Clint responded. “Wanna talk to her? She’s already had her lunch.”

“Sure, if she can,” Bucky nodded.

“For you, woman,” Clint called out and apparently passed the phone over to his wife.

“Hey, Nat, sorry about the last minute time off,” Bucky apologized.

“Is everything okay, James?” Natasha asked lightly.

“Not really?” Bucky sighed and rubbed his face again, “I had a flashback yesterday at the clinic . . . Bruce said I dissociated? And Kevin’s seizures are getting worse . . . and TJ had a nearly three minute long one yesterday as we were leaving.”

“Have your family been tested for meningitis or toxins?” she asked, practical as always.

“Bruce is banning us from the house until they can investigate it to see if there’s anything that could be causing the seizures. He said something about the construction hitting a gas line, maybe?” Bucky shook his head.

“Ask Bruce to send you a report of all testing done?” She prompted him, her voice calm, reasonable.

“Oh, he did that,” Bucky nodded, “I’m supposed to get preliminary results on Monday.”

Natasha made a small noise of agreement, “and Kevin and TJ? Have they been tested for toxins or a brain infection?”

“I think so? Yesterday after my dissociation is kinda fuzzy and I just woke up about an hour ago. They’re also supposed to get preliminary results on Monday,” Bucky answered. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yes, James?” she asked immediately.

“What do you know about Wilson Fisk?” Bucky asked quietly, eyes flickering to the bedroom door.

“Fisk is a businessman and Senator who has many different store fronts throughout Manhattan and the other boroughs. He’s a polite, controlled man who demands respect and values public appearance and opinion. I wouldn’t cross him. Rumor has it the people who cross him don’t live to regret it.” Natasha’s recitation sounded neutral, though there was an underlying warning there.

Frowning, Bucky lowered his voice, “Fisk wants to move Steve to a bigger studio . . . Steve says he’s gonna say no, but . . .” Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“But?” she prompted.

“I don’t know? I mean, I guess . . . with the new gallery, Steve would be able to spend more time at home because the new gallery comes with assistants. I really don’t want him to get into business with Fisk, Nat.” Bucky said, worry evident in his tone.

“Sounds like a catch twenty-two. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Natasha asked, “what kind of incentive has he offered Steve? At the moment, it sounds like Steve has all the advantaged in the move, so what’s Fisk getting if Steve goes through with it?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I don’t trust him . . . what would a rich businessman, turned Senator, want with a small, local artist?” Bucky played with the fabric of his sweats, frowning.

“I don’t trust the man, James. I think he wants something more than to back Steve’s art. Steve is worth quite a bit as an artist, but I think Fisk wants more than a percentage of that.” She sighed on her side of the line. “You _do_ know how much your husband is worth, right, James?” she asked, sounding wary.

“I . . .” Bucky frowned, looking towards the door once more, “I . . . he doesn’t talk about it very much. How - - how much is he worth?”

“Well, in the last six years he’s sold three or four paintings a year at around a two hundred to five hundred thousand price tag each. If he’s really not spending that, like he claims, that makes him worth about nine and a half million.”

Bucky nearly dropped the phone, but he managed to catch himself, “what? Really? I - - I had no idea . . .” the brunet sighed and shook his head, “I guess we don’t talk about his art very much . . .”

“And anyone who does a modicum of research would know his worth, James. I think Fisk knows. If Steve picked up his pace, he’d move a lot more, too. I know he has about a dozen or so pictures that he hasn’t sold yet in the gallery.” Natasha switched the phone to her other ear, if sound was any judge.

“You think . . . maybe Fisk wants to use him? Get some of the profits from Steve’s paintings?” Bucky grew very worried about the man his husband had been doing business with; he could feel a small headache beginning to pulse behind his eyes.

“I think he wants Steve’s profits, but I think he wants control of Steve, too. Fisk is well known for being in complete control of any business he deals with. He starts working with them then takes over.” Natasha sighed and added, “no, Clint, over there . . .”

“Well, Steve is gonna tell him no . . . that’s what he told me . . . so hopefully we won’t have to worry about Fisk for too much longer,” Bucky sighed and said, “I gotta go, thanks, Nat, for listening.”

“Any time, James,” she sounded worried. “Oh, James? Make sure Steve is very polite when he refuses. Fisk is rumored to prefer manners . . .”

“When isn’t Steve polite,” Bucky said with a small smile, “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Natasha hung up the phone.

Sighing, Bucky pushed off the bed, slipping the phone into the pocket of his sweats as he walked back towards the living room. “Two weeks off for sure . . . told them I might need more,” Bucky reported.

Nodding, Steve watched Bucky for a moment. “Everything okay with them? You were on for a bit.” Steve didn’t control Bucky’s phone time, but if his husband said he’d call in for vacation and took over fifteen minutes, Steve worried something had happened to their friends.

“Oh, yeah, they’re fine, I just got started chatting with Nat, you know how it goes,” Bucky gave his husband a small smile, though his husband could see the pain and worry in his eyes.

“As long as everyone’s okay,” Steve nodded, smiling back at Bucky. “Do you want your medicine right now?”

“I guess,” Bucky nodded and sat back down on the couch, “did we have any plans for today?”

“Just hanging out with each other, so we can do that while I rest,” Steve reached over and stroked Bucky’s cheek with one finger. If Kevin had outside friends, and hadn’t been experiencing an increase in the seizures, Steve would have suggested getting Scott to drop Kevin and TJ off with someone so the couple could spend the day cuddling and love talking. But Kevin had nowhere else to go, and he was too ill for Steve to even suggest it. TJ also hadn’t made any local friends yet.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky nodded; he was worried about Steve being involved with Fisk. How would the large man take Steve refusing his offer?

“Wanna cuddle, Buck?” Steve asked on a smile, stroking Bucky’s cheek once again. Longing rose in his eyes, but he contented himself with the soft strokes and smiles.

Bucky looked at Kevin and TJ then back at Steve, “yeah. We can watch some of those movies we haven’t caught up on.” He wanted to spend time with Steve; they didn’t get a lot of time together with Steve being so busy at the gallery.

“The ones we never have time for,” Steve chuckled. “Kevin, TJ, wanna come join us?” He grinned at the boys.

Kevin shook his head and smiled, so much more alert that day. “Me and Avenger are gonna color, ‘kay? Wanna play in my room?”

Steve looked at Bucky then at Kevin, “sure, Kev. You can go color in your room. TJ?”

“Uh . . .” TJ looked at Steve and shrugged one shoulder, “I can go to my room, too?”

“Or you can go to Kevin’s,” Steve suggested. “Or you can stay out here with the old folks.”

“I . . . don’t wanna be in the way?” TJ looked between the adults and Kevin.

“If you were in the way, I wouldn’t offer to let you stay, baby.” Steve chuckled. “You’re never in the way, TJ.”

“You can come play with me. Avenger and Malakai can hang out together,” Kevin offered happily.

Looking at the two dogs and then Kevin, TJ slowly nodded, “okay . . .” he stood up, grabbing his dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Bucky said to the boys with a soft smile.

“Dad has the monitor next to him.” Kevin referred to the emergency monitors in each room for health alerts. “We can tell you guys if we need something.” Kevin draped his arm over Avenger and guided the dog towards the small room he’d been given at the clinic, signaling TJ to follow him.

Steve watched the boys leave and chuckled. “Wow, alone time after all, sort of.”

“Wanna make use of it?” Bucky purred softly, pushing aside his worries to take advantage of some quality time with his husband.

“You bet,” Steve laughed softy. He took Bucky’s hand and tugged him up close, so their bodies were flush. “Gonna kiss you breathless . . .” He touched foreheads and sighed with a smile, “I remember the last time we tried to make love on the couch.”

“You proposed that night . . .” Bucky grinned at Steve, eyes lighting at the memory.

“Yeah . . . six years ago. Best decision of my life, too.” Steve kissed his lover’s temple. “I love you more each day, Bucky.”

Humming, Bucky smiled, “I love you, too, Stevie . . . now, let’s not waste time, don’t know how long we’re gonna have,” the brunet kissed his husband right below the ear, nipping softly before moving his lips to Steve’s, kissing gently, lovingly.


	7. Answers Start Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Seizures, Cancer, Sex Talk**

By the time Sunday night came around, two good things had been noted by the pair, though in normal circumstances, neither would have stood out. The first was that Steve seemed to regain his energy a bit quicker with only quiet, obedient Kevin and TJ, and responsible Bucky, to take care of. With Ava and her teenaged phases absent, Steve wasn’t so high strung. Secondly, Kevin had no seizures, and that was even better news to Steve than his own relaxation.

Steve finished setting the food plates in front of his family with a smile for the males in his life. Ava would be back in the morning, and Steve needed to discuss that event with his husband. Sitting down in his own spot at the kitchenette table, Steve softly asked, “Bucky? What do you think of having Ava get blood work done, too? Just in case?”

Blinking, Bucky looked over at his husband, “why? You think she may be sick?” The brunet looked concerned.

“No, but the rest of us are, so I wondered if Ava just isn’t showing sick or something? It was just a thought.” Steve began eating, glancing over at Kevin, who seemed happy and energetic for the moment, and then TJ, who did what he normally did at mealtimes; he looked down at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork.

“Oh,” Bucky nodded, taking a small bite of his dinner, “okay . . . I guess it can’t hurt, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Steve nodded. He turned his eyes back to Bucky, “Did you want to write down some of the things we could say to Ava when she comes back?”

“I guess that couldn’t hurt?” Bucky answered.

Kevin piped up, softly, “you can use your diary, Papa. It’s right by your hand.”

“Oh,” Bucky looked down and sure enough, the journal was sitting right next to him.

“Need a pen?” Kevin offered.

Steve nodded and continued eating, trying to organize his thoughts concerning Ava and her breach of trust.

“Yeah, Tiger, that’d be great,” Bucky nodded, eyes still down as he opened the journal.

Kevin bounced out of his chair and ran off to get a pen, Avenger at his heels. Five minutes later, neither had returned. Steve looked up and frowned then looked at Bucky. Frowning, Bucky stood up and went to go look for their son. Steve got up to follow. TJ’s head lifted but he didn’t get up.

They found Kevin sitting, slumped, against the master bedroom wall, Avenger pressing his face to Kevin’s chest and making a small yipping whimper. Kevin’s eyes were rolled back but he wasn’t shaking, just slumped and seeming unconscious.

Steve knelt down hurriedly and began checking his son. “Buck? Can you get me some fresh clothes for him, please?” He kept his voice calm though his heart ached for his son, and his husband’s cousin for that matter. Somehow, in the last week, they seemed to have gone downhill quickly, and Steve had no idea what to do to help either them. TJ hadn’t had another seizure, but Steve dreaded the event as if it were inevitable.

Nodding, Bucky hurried off; his footsteps could be heard heading into Kevin’s room and then a few moments later coming back out. He held a fresh outfit for Kevin in his arm and he looked at the two blonds on the floor, “he responsive yet?”

“Yeah, confused but aware again. This one might have been a minor one, but I doubt it. I think it was tonic-clonic again.” Steve sighed and picked up his son to carry him to the bathroom. “Thanks, Buck,” Steve said as he stripped his messy son as Kevin let out a soft, confused whimper. Steve never considered the fact that he was supposed to be resting himself. Avenger sat down in the master bedroom beside Malakai and TJ, watching with attentive eyes.

Bucky nodded, still holding the clothes close to his chest as he watched Steve begin washing Kevin. He noticed how tired Steve looked, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel worried . . . Steve, in the last week, had been forced to not only take care of Kevin but TJ as well. And with the heart scare, Bucky was worried Steve may be overworking himself.

Steve set Kevin in the tub, briefly thankful his kid was so small, actually. Always lifting him would have been far worse otherwise. Carefully, Steve turned to Bucky. “Hey, sweetie? Can you bathe him? I want to check to see if he actually took his meds tonight and get his journal. I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and set the clothes on the counter and took Steve’s spot by the tub so he could start cleaning up Kevin, talking soothingly to the confused boy.

Steve left. In the hall, he froze at the sight of TJ on the floor, Avenger pressed up next to him, keeping him close to the wall as he seized. Skidding to his knees beside the boy, Steve began loosening TJ’s clothing and turning him to his side incase he vomited. “I’m right here, baby. Steve’s here, TJ. I’ve got you,” he cooed.

The boy seized for another few moments before going still, though it was uncertain how long this one had been since both Bucky and Steve had been with Kevin.

Steve checked TJ’s breathing then scooped the slender twelve year old up, panting slightly, and carried him into the bathroom as well. “Bucky, call Bruce.”

Bucky looked up and his eyes widened, immediately standing up to help Steve with TJ, “sit, Steve,” he ordered.

With a single nod, Steve slid to the floor by the tub and checked on Kevin once more. He began stripping TJ. “He was seizing when I went into the bedroom. What I saw lasted twenty seconds, maybe, but not sure when it started.”

Nodding, Bucky pulled out his phone and sent a quick, urgent message to Bruce before setting the phone on the counter next to Kevin’s fresh clothes. He began checking TJ for injuries. Lucky for them, Avenger had stayed in the bedroom with TJ; the small brunet could’ve really hurt himself while falling.

Kevin started crying, as frustrated and scared as Bucky ever felt when he dissociated or flashbacked. He looked up at his adoptive father and whimpered, “Papa, Avenger pushed me to the wall.”

“I know, Tiger,” Bucky nodded and gave Kevin a gentle smile over his shoulder, still trying to help Steve get TJ stripped, “he didn’t hurt you, did he?” The brunet didn’t think Avenger would but felt the need to ask.

“No . . .” Kevin looked up with wide, grey eyes full of misery and lethargy. “He wouldn’t let me walk away. He kept whining and poking me with his nose. Then I . . . I forget.”

Steve eased TJ into the warm water beside Kevin, tossing the wet clothes aside for later clean up. He began carefully bathing the almost unconscious boy, cleaning him carefully while supporting TJ’s head on one large arm. “Avenger did real good, Kevin,” he murmured.

“That’s because you had another seizure, Tiger. Avenger sensed it and made sure to keep you safe, just like he was trained to do,” Bucky began washing his son’s hair, his fingers so gentle they could barely be felt. His eyes kept flickering to TJ, not liking how still TJ was. It had always scared him more when Kevin was unresponsive after a seizure.

“Papa, does your arm hurt again?” Kevin watched Bucky’s face.

Steve smiled worriedly, “I’ll record the seizures after we get them cleaned and in bed. Kev, if you get hungry later, just ask, okay, baby? I saw him take his meds this morning, Bucky, so that’s not the problem.”

The blond boy nodded, his attention on Bucky.

“My arm doesn’t hurt, Tiger, promise,” Bucky said gently and rinsed out his son’s platinum hair. Bucky looked at Steve and nodded, confirming he’d heard what Steve had said.

“So it’s better since you left it off for a couple of days? That’s good,” Kevin smiled softly. His grey eyes fell on TJ and an intense look of worry came over Kevin. “Is TJ gonna be okay?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Bucky assured Kevin, glancing at Steve and then back to the blond boy, “hopefully Bruce will be here soon to check up on both of you.”

“You sure your arm is okay, Papa?” Kevin seemed to be latching onto anything that worried him at the moment. He probably hadn’t had a clonic-tonic since he was so alert, unlike TJ who’d obviously had a full clonic-tonic seizure.

“Sometimes, I mess up and leave it on for too long and it starts to hurt the skin . . . so I left it off for the weekend to give my skin some time to heal,” Bucky explained and then smiled softly.

Nodding a bit, Kevin leaned into Bucky, inadvertently getting him wet and soapy. “And Dad puts cream on your arm.”

“Exactly,” Bucky nodded, finishing up with Kevin in the bath, “alright, Tiger, time to dry off and get ready for bed.” He helped the boy stand and started to dry off the thin eleven year old.

Kevin helped as much as he could, lifting his legs and arms and such, as Steve continued caring for TJ, letting Bucky handle Kevin for the moment. Finally, Steve glanced over and nodded, grabbing a towel to dry TJ.

Bucky helped the boy into the fresh clothes and ushered Kevin out of the bathroom. He guided Kevin to his room, “how’re you feeling?” Bucky asked as they stepped into the bedroom. He assisted the little boy onto the bed, under the covers.

“Tired and kinda loopy, Papa,” Kevin yawned. “And my body is saggy, too. Is TJ gonna be okay? He looked almost . . . dead.”

“We don’t know how long he was seizing for,” Bucky answered honestly, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through Kevin’s damp hair. “With both of you having seizures, we shouldn’t have left him alone. But, Bruce is gonna come and check on him.”

“It’s Sunday, Papa. Doctor Bruce might be in church.” Kevin snuggled into his pillow with a very tired yawn.

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded and leaned down to kiss Kevin’s forehead, “if he’s not here than he’ll make sure a good doctor comes to check on you two.”

“Okay, Papa,” Kevin agreed as Steve carried TJ into the room and slipped the naked boy under the covers of Kevin’s bed. He sat down on a chair beside the bed and worked on catching his breath.

“Should’ve waited for me to come back, Steve,” Bucky admonished softly, a worried frown on his face.

Looking at his husband, Steve flushed and looked sheepish. He nodded in agreement, “okay . . . will . . . in . . . future . . .”

Bucky nodded and moved to TJ’s side of the bed, checking on the still unconscious seeming boy. Frowning worse in worry, Bucky said, “I’m gonna go get someone. Usually Bruce, if he’s at the clinic, comes by now.” He ran his fingers through TJ’s hair, gently, before walking from the room and apartment. In the hall, he luckily spotted Riley walking by. “Riley! Need your help, please!” His voice was thick with worry for his family; everything seemed to be going downhill so fast.

Riley never questioned what it was Bucky needed, instead following at a rapid yet controlled pace. As a therapist and nurse, he was used to emergencies, and he’d known the family a long time.

Bucky led Riley into Kevin's room where both the boys were. Looking over his shoulder as he entered the room, he explained, “both the boys had seizures. We don't think Kevin's was a tonic-clonic, but TJ’s definitely was. We also don't know how long TJ was seizing for. Steve said that he counted about twenty seconds that he witnessed . . . but none of us were there when he started. Steve and I were both with Kevin. TJ’s been unresponsive since.”

Nodding, Riley sank onto the chair beside TJ’s bedside and reached over to stroke the boy’s hair from his forehead, noting the curls were getting a little long. Pushing the stray thought aside, Riley asked, “how long were you out of sight of TJ? If we assume he went into a seizure as soon as you left, that would make how long?” He pulled out a penlight to shine in TJ’s eyes, checking for pupil dilation or blow, hoping to God for the regular dilating with light and expending without which denoted no head injury.

Bucky looked over at Steve and then back at Riley, “I’d say we were with Kevin for no more than three minutes before Steve went looking for Kevin's journal.”

As Riley shined the penlight in his eyes, TJ let out a very small whimper. The twelve year old looked miserable and in a lot of pain.

“TJ, it’s Riley. Blink for me,” Riley instructed gently, yet voice firm, a definite command.

TJ sluggishly blinked; his pale eyes, clouded with confusion, flickered to look at the nurse. “Gonna . . . sick . . .”

Riley nodded and turned TJ on his side, “go ahead, TJ. You’re allowed to be sick.” He stroked the curls softly.

The thin boy threw up what little he'd managed to eat during lunch. His entire body trembled and his skin looked pale. He whimpered again, “sorry . . .”

Stroking again, Riley reached for some tissues and began wiping TJ’s mouth and face, gentle. “Sick gets a free pass, TJ. Just rest now. This was a bad seizure. Bucky, I need permission to start an IV and get him to scans as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” Bucky agreed with an extremely worried frown. His eyes met Steve's before looking back at the sick, trembling boy.

TJ retched again, though nothing came up. The twelve year old’s eyes filled with tears though they didn't spill over. The slender brunet was terrified and in pain. “I . . . want . . . Dougie . . .” he choked on a sob which only made him gag again.

Riley looked at Bucky and shook his head. He continued to stroke TJ’s hair and murmured soothing words to the child as another nurse came in and began to start an IV. She was gentle and quick, taping the tube in place so it wouldn’t slip. Riley watched TJ’s every reaction as they worked on him. Once the IV was in place, Riley slid TJ even closer to Kevin so the boys touched. It wasn’t TJ’s twin, but it was the best Riley could offer.

Shaking his head, TJ whimpered, “sorry . . . s - - so sorry . . .” He still didn’t let himself cry, only curled into himself as best as he could.

Kevin wrapped his arms carefully around the other boy, holding him close. He kissed TJ’s cheek and buried his face in TJ’s neck. “I’m here, Teej.”

Bucky looked at the boys and then Riley, wondering if the nurse had any suspicion on how long TJ’s seizure had been. The boy had been practically unconscious for nearly fifteen minutes. Kevin had never been unresponsive for that long and Bucky feared that something might seriously be wrong. Bucky kept his voice low as he approached Riley, “you said something about scans?”

Nodding, Riley said, “I want to do some brain scans to see if there’s any swelling or lasting damage, maybe even a blood clot. It’s precaution only since we’re not sure how long this seizure lasted. A three minutes seizure can be quite detrimental . . . or leave no lasting harm if we’re lucky. We have to assume it lasted the three minutes, though.” Sighing as another nurse brought in a wheeled stretcher, Riley said, “we should bring both boys to the scan room in order to keep TJ calm, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded, “do whatever you think you need to. What detriments are we talking about, Riley?” He liked to know what worst case scenario could be, even if that did nothing to help his anxiety.

“Brain damage is the biggest worry, Bucky. But until we see the scans, we won’t know how serious or even what’s causing it. The results from the preliminary scans should be back soon, too, so we can compare them.” Riley followed the careful maneuvering of the boys onto the stretcher, his eyes never leaving TJ’s form.

TJ’s eyes met Kevin’s and the brunet whimpered again, his hand which was free of the IV clasped the smaller boy’s tightly. “I’m . . . scared,” he admitted on a whisper.

Nodding, Kevin kissed TJ’s shoulder lightly, like he often saw his parents do to comfort one another. “I’m right here, TJ. I won’t leave you. You’re safe with Riley. He saved me from the bad people who sold me, and he’ll save you, too.”

“You . . . you promise you . . . won’t leave?” TJ breathed, a stray tear running down his cheek.

Kevin smiled and nuzzled TJ’s neck. “Promise, Teej. I’ll always be right here. We’re a team now. Doug sent me ‘cause he went to Heaven.”

“Don’t go to Heaven,” TJ murmured, his body still trembling.

“Not without you, TJ. I promise. We’ll go together when we’re older. Right now, we’re gonna get better.” Kevin stroked TJ’s neck and shoulder, cheek and hair. He kept kissing his adoptive cousin gently, reassuring the other boy.

Nodding slowly, TJ tucked his head under Kevin’s chin, curling his body around the smaller boy.

Kevin’s eyes moved to fall on Bucky and he smiled at his adoptive father. “It’s okay, Papa. I’m here to take care of TJ now. I can help him with his seizures.”

Keeping up with the stretcher as it was rolled through the halls, Bucky nodded and gave Kevin a gentle smile, though his eyes were worried. “I know you can, Tiger. You’re a good friend to him.”

Steve followed his family, just as worried, watching but not interrupting the boys or Bucky and Riley.

Once they got to the scan room, Riley smiled at the two children. “TJ, we’re going to move you to the scan bed now. But Kevin’ll be right here, all right? He’s not going anywhere.”

Swallowing thickly, TJ nodded and slowly, reluctantly, let go of the blond boy and scooted away so the nurses could help him move to the scan bed. The tests took about half an hour and then the medical staff helped TJ back into the stretcher next to Kevin.

Kevin nuzzled into TJ’s neck and sighed happily. “RIght here, TJ,” he whispered.

TJ wrapped himself around the small boy, needing that contact and reassurance that Kevin wasn’t going anywhere. Kevin didn’t protest, allowing the contact, the tight hug.

The boys were moved back down the halls and into the apartment once more, Riley following with a tablet, watching carefully as the boys were transferred into the bed in TJ’s room. He stopped next to Bucky and softly said, “Bucky, Steve, let’s give the boys some time to rest. May I have some juice?”

Looking over, Bucky nodded and led the nurse into the small kitchenette. He opened the fridge, pulled out the orange juice, and poured it into three glasses. He handed Riley his glass, still looking very worried as he passed the second to his husband, who’d been abnormally quiet this entire time.

Steve accepted the glass and began drinking the juice, a little color coming back into his face. He really hadn’t been resting at all that day due to the emergencies. Sinking down at the kitchenette table, Steve asked, “why did you want us alone, Riley?”

Sighing, Riley sipped the juice and turned the tablet for the worried parents to see. “Some of TJ’s scans are back. It appears he has a growth on the brain.”

Eyes widening, Bucky took the tablet and looked at it, not believing what he was seeing. “A . . . growth? Like . . . _cancer_?” Bucky kept his voice low but the worry was very clear.

“That’s definitely a word for it,” Riley sighed again. “No matter what we call it, it’s still an abnormal growth. We don’t know yet if it’s malignant or if we can easily get rid of it. By the size and his symptoms, though,” Riley met Bucky’s eyes, “I’d say it’s a safe bet that it’s malignant and he’ll need aggressive treatment as soon as we can arrange it.”

“What . . . what does that mean?” Bucky could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He looked at Steve and then back to Riley, “chemo? Surgery?”

“Depending on the rest of his results, Bucky, we’ll decide what needs to be done. But, yes, something aggressive means surgery or radiation or other therapies. He’ll be sick for some time, weak and unable to go to school, once the therapy starts. Would you like me to get you guys in touch with a child therapist? One who deals with children while they go through this?” Riley took back the tablet.

Bucky leaned against the counter, shaking his head, “how much is that poor kid expected to take?” The brunet appeared stunned and horrified, “he just lost his whole family for Christ’s sake and now _this_?”

Riley sipped his juice again. “I strongly urge a child therapist, Bucky, Steve. He needs one to cope with his losses and now his health. But, the good news is we’ve made leaps in treating cancer. He has a better chance of surviving now than even five years ago.”

Nodding, Bucky forced himself to take and release a deep breath before replying, “yeah, the child therapist would be good . . .” Bucky looked at his husband, trying to judge the blond’s reaction to the shocking news.

Steve sat there looking shocked but stoic. He nodded slowly and pulled over some paper and a pen. “Okay, what kinds of changes do we make to diet? House and furnishings? Exercise schedule? How do we make this as easy on him as possible?” He always felt better when trying to organize things.

Riley leaned forward to start talking things through with the worried parents.

**************

The discussion went late into the afternoon and Riley suddenly shook his head. “Dinner. It’s dinner time. I think the boys might be hungry?”

Bucky pushed up and nodded, heading towards TJ’s room where they’d left the boys. Carefully stepping inside, Bucky looked at TJ and Kevin in the bed, “Tiger? You hungry?” he called out softly, making his way over to the bed. He smiled softly at the sight of Kevin sleeping, his tiny body wrapped protectively around the slim, sick brunet. Bucky leaned over to brush his fingers through Kevin’s blond hair, “Kevin?”

Opening sleepy grey eyes, Kevin yawned. He immediately checked on TJ then smiled at Bucky. “My Bucky,” he said softly, like he used to years before.

“You hungry?” Bucky asked on a whisper. He hated the idea of waking TJ up; the boy didn’t sleep often so Bucky felt that TJ needed as much sleep as possible.

“Papa,” Kevin said softly, “is TJ’s sickness causing the nightmares, too? He had one while you guys were in the other room, but I got him quiet again.”

“That’s a different type of sickness, Kevin,” Bucky said softly, “come on out to the living room, Tiger. Dad and I can try to explain it to you so you can help us tell TJ when he wakes up, okay?” He offered his hand to Kevin.

“As long as I’m not gone too long, Papa. I promised he wouldn’t be alone anymore.” Kevin accepted Bucky’s help and carefully got out of the bed. Malakai took Kevin’s spot on the bed, intently watching TJ as the boy slept. Kevin quietly moved into the living room and waited, patiently.

Bucky led Kevin into the kitchenette where Steve still was. “TJ was sleeping . . . I . . . didn’t want to wake him? I figure we can talk with Kevin first so he can help us explain things to TJ?” Bucky waited for Steve’s opinion.

Steve looked up from his list, nodding. “Good idea. Kevin, want to help us make dinner while we talk? Then you can bring some in to TJ.”

Riley stayed on hand to help explain things if needed, smiling at Kevin, who seemed relieved the nurse had stayed.

Kevin opened the refrigerator and started pulling out the ingredients for a fruit salad, wanting to give TJ something he really liked. “Okay, I’m listening, Papa, Dad.”

Looking at Steve and then back to Kevin, Bucky took another deep breath and let it out. “Some of TJ’s scans came back, Kevin. And . . . there’s a growth on his brain, it’s what’s causing his seizures.”

Turning to look at his adoptive father, Kevin said, thoughtfully, “but not my seizures. It’s different, right?”

“Yes,” Bucky confirmed with a nod, “you have epilepsy. TJ, as far as we can tell so far, doesn’t. His seizures are caused by what’s called a tumor.”

Nodding, Kevin sighed. “And is it going to keep hurting him, Papa?” the boy began to very carefully slice fruit for the salad, keeping his eyes on the knife and his hands.

“Yes,” Bucky let Kevin work on the salad as he answered the boy’s question, “TJ’s gonna get pretty sick before he can get better, if that makes sense? After they do more tests, they’ll be able to figure out how to help him get better.”

“So, until they can figure it out, TJ will keep getting sick,” Kevin nodded, putting fruit into the bowl he’d pulled out. He sighed. “Will he keep getting this tumor coming back after he gets medicine, Papa?”

“Uh . . .” Bucky glanced at Riley, looking for help to answer that question.

“It’s a possibility, Kevin, but we hope not. We’ll be trying our best to get rid of the tumor and stop any more from growing.” The nurse stood and began helping Kevin by making a vegetable-based salad while Steve seemed to shaking himself out of his stupor and started chopping meat to cook for the salad Riley made.

Kevin nodded again. “How long before the tests tell us how to take care of my TJ?” He seemed unaware he’d given the possessive name to his adoptive cousin; Kevin often referred to those he truly cared about in the possessive.

“Riley said the rest of the results should be in by Monday,” Bucky answered.

“Good,” Kevin nodded. “That’s tomorrow.” He looked up. “Unless you mean _next_ Monday, Papa?”

“No, I meant tomorrow,” Bucky nodded and gave Kevin a small smile, “from what Riley explained to your Dad and me, TJ is going to be started on treatments as soon as the results come in. Depending on what those tests reveal, TJ might need surgery or something called chemotherapy, which would help get rid of the tumor.”

Kevin looked thoughtful, hand paused in putting more cut fruit in the large bowl. “And the medicine and surgery will make him feel worse until his body catches up and starts healing properly?”

“Exactly,” Bucky nodded. “So, TJ won’t be able to start school with you this year. He’s going to have to focus on getting better first.”

“I can stay home with TJ,” Kevin offered. “Then he won’t be lonely.”

Bucky looked at Steve.

Steve cleared his throat. “Actually, we were hoping you’d start school and when TJ felt better you could show him around, introduce him to people, and everything? You know, go in first to smooth his way?”

“Oh,” Kevin sighed. “That makes sense. And the other kids will be used to Avenger by then so won’t be so surprised by Malakai.”

“Exactly,” Bucky smiled and brushed his fingers through Kevin’s hair, “and then you can come home and tell TJ all about it.”

“Okay, that makes sense. But we need to tell TJ first so he’s not shocked when I go to school and he stays home with Malakai and Dad.”

“We’re going to tell him when he wakes up, Kevin, I just didn’t want to wake him if he was actually sleeping,” Bucky informed the small preteen. “You said he had a nightmare? We didn’t hear him . . .” Usually if TJ had a nightmare, he’d wake up screaming.

Kevin nodded. “I heard him whimpering and he started thrashing, Papa, and I woke up. I didn’t want him to pull out his IV so I started petting him and talking real soft. After a couple of kisses and some petting he calmed down and went back to sleep.”

“That’s great, Kevin,” Bucky smiled, “you were able to get him back to sleep. None of us have been able to do that before.”

“He misses Dougie. Dougie could get him to sleep, too, by petting and stuff.” Kevin reached into the fridge for whipped cream which he generously topped the fruit salad with.

Nodding, Bucky sighed softly, “you did really good, Kevin.” He stroked his adoptive son’s hair again, “how are _you_ feeling, by the way?”

“I feel tired and a bit wobbly, Papa, but I’m okay. It wasn’t bad like some of my other seizures.” Kevin offered Bucky a quick hug and picked up the huge bowl of fruit and cream, grabbing two forks. He headed right out of the kitchen with the large fruit salad.

Steve blinked. “What . . . Kevin? I don’t think TJ’s awake . . .” he looked at his husband, “or will eat all that.”

Blinking, Bucky watched the boy walk towards the bedroom. He looked at Steve and then shrugged one shoulder, “maybe Kevin can get him to actually eat something?”

After a long moment of watching the bedroom door without Kevin returning, Steve seemed to shake himself. “Uh . . . I’ve been thinking on learning how to drive,” he said.

“Why?” Bucky asked, surprised at the sudden statement, one that came up every time things got truly bad in the household.

“In case you’re not feeling well and Kevin needs to get to the clinic, or two of the kids have appointments in two different locations we could both take one,” Steve answered, softly. He began chopping meet once more.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed, “you should’ve gotten it years ago. I just didn’t think you wanted it. We’ve made due so far.”

Steve nodded. “I just never bothered because we always found a way with the Ubers and such. But . . . now I’m feeling like maybe that was too . . . _irresponsible_ of me?” He looked up to watch Bucky.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, “we’ve just never needed you to have a license. But . . . with everything that’s been happening . . . might be a good idea,” the brunet shook his head, letting out a troubled sigh.

**************

The next morning, Bucky woke to that same distinctive smell of Steve’s unique paints that Wilson Fisk ordered for the _Sunrise_ painting. Steve had already bagged his clothes and was showering in the now spare room which would be Ava’s once she arrived. Bucky slid out of bed, grabbed an outfit for the day and headed into the shower. He took his time, washing his skin and hair; he still felt shocked over the news from the night before so the hot steam cleared the rest of that up.

The bathroom door opened without the person seeking permission and Kevin slipped in. He immediately walked over to the side of the shower and put a hand on the door. “Papa?” he called, voice shaking slightly. “Are you okay?”

Jumping, knocking his elbow on the tiled wall, Bucky hissed and quickly turned off the shower, oblivious to the soap that still ran from his hair. He grabbed a towel as he opened the door, “Kevin? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Had a nightmare, Papa, that you died,” Kevin sniffled, wiping at the tears in his eyes. Avenger stood nearby, as always, watching both intently. “I dreamed you were in the car and hit a truck.”

Wrapping the towel around his waist, Bucky stepped out and knelt down in front of his son. He pulled the small boy into a hug, despite still being soaked and dripping soap from his shower. “I’m alright, Tiger,” Bucky crooned softly, rubbing the boy’s back.

“What if you get sleepy in the car when you’re driving, Papa? On the TV it says more people are killed sleeping and driving then other ways.” Kevin burrowed against Bucky, body trembling.

“Hey,” Bucky cooed, continuing his soothing rubbing, “that won’t happen, okay?”

Kevin nodded but he didn’t look like he believed it. He merely clung to Bucky tightly, trying not to cry.

Bucky sighed; he had no idea what Kevin had been watching that he’d heard about the sleeping and driving fact, “where’d you hear that anyway, Kevin?”

“It was on the news,” Kevin said softly, eyes down as if he admitted to some heinous act other than watching the news when his parent did. “It was a special report last week.”

Nodding, Bucky kissed the boy’s forehead and hugged him close once more, “well, that won’t happen to me, okay? You know how much coffee I drink,” the brunet tried a small joke to lighten the mood.

“They said coffee can cause cancer,” Kevin added. “On the internet they said that. Ava was looking at pictures and something flashed over the screen.”

Sighing again, knowing that if Kevin were curious, he’d be able to look up and see that almost everything could be linked to some sort of cancer, Bucky kissed Kevin’s temple, “well, the internet says lots of things . . . and not everything you read on the internet is true.”

“People shouldn’t lie. Then kids like me get scared for no good reason,” Kevin sighed, sounding frustrated, which was rare for the patient child. “Papa, Ava’s coming back today and being punished? You and Dad said she was grounded, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“Because she let Freddy sneak into my room so she could kiss him in hers?” Kevin lifted his face, looking curious and a little worried. “And is she being punished for saying such mean things to you and Dad?” he pressed.

Frowning, Bucky pulled back to look at Kevin, “yes, what she did was very dangerous and she needs to understand that. She also needs to understand she can’t say mean things about the family without repercussions.”

“She never means it, but she always says you and Dad aren’t her real parents when she gets mad,” Kevin sighed, still leaning into Bucky’s hip. “I could hear her screaming, and Freddy called her a cock tease.”

Bucky’s frown deepened and he sighed, “that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone. I understand why she got upset, but she still can’t lash out at the ones that love her.”

Shaking his head, Kevin said, “she didn’t yell at Freddy. She yelled at you and Dad. Dad was making Freddy leave and was going to send him to jail for trespassing.” Kevin sighed. “I don’t think I wanna ever be a teenager. It sounds like I’d get angry and break the rules a lot.

“Well, good thing for you we’re ripping July from the calendar, huh?” Bucky smiled softly, brushing his son’s hair from his face.

Kevin giggled. “Yeah, I’m gonna miss birthdays,” he smiled up at Bucky at last. “I think Ava’s scared to be a grownup.”

“It’s a scary thing,” Bucky nodded, “but she knows, and I hope you and TJ do, too, that your Dad and I will always be there to help you three. Even if it seems like we may be a bit strict every now and again, the rules are there to protect you guys,” Bucky stroked Kevin’s cheek again, smiling gently at the boy.

“I think she forgot when she turned fourteen, Papa.” Kevin finally straightened, over his nightmare after the odd conversation.

“Yeah, well, we’ll do our best to remind her,” Bucky stood up and ruffled his son’s hair, “why don’t you go get ready? How was TJ last night? Any other nightmares after he fell back asleep?”

“No, he slept well with me and Malakai and Avenger all around him. Papa? Can I ask something else . . . something private?” Kevin looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Anything, Tiger,” Bucky nodded, giving his son a reassuring smile.

“I was so confused and scared afterwards, that I’m not sure I understood. You and Dad said it feels good to have someone put his penis in your butt. But how does it fit?” He reached over to stroke Avengers soft ears.

Sighing, Bucky nodded and crouched back down. “Well, when two people love each other . . . they wanna make each other feel good. For two men . . . one needs to - - stretch the other before they can have sex.”

Nodding, Kevin sighed, “but how does it _fit_ , Papa? How does it stretch?”

Bucky opened his mouth to answer, cheeks flushed, but he snapped his jaw closed when he heard his husband’s voice.

“How are my guys?” Steve asked from the doorway to the master bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, another wrapped around his waist.

“Papa was trying to explain how a penis fits in a butt,” Kevin said, honestly.

Steve looked shocked and glanced at Bucky. “Uh . . . we have an appointment? Maybe we can talk about this later?” He flushed bright red.

Flushing brighter at Steve’s own embarrassment, Bucky cleared his throat and nodded, “yeah . . . uh - - later, okay, Tiger? Go get ready.”

Nodding, Kevin hurried off to get dressed into clean clothes. Steve ran a hand over the back of his own neck. “That was awkward.”

Standing back up, Bucky nodded, “yeah, but . . . he wanted to know? I mean, he _did_ see us and given his past . . . I - - uh . . . thought it was only fair to try and explain it to him.” The brunet grabbed another towel to ruffle it over his dripping hair.

“Buck, I have no problem with Kevin knowing how sex works. We’re going to be late.” Steve offered a small, embarrassed smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I’m sorry I had to.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky nodded and finished drying off; he put his boxers and jeans on, but not his shirt, “you mind helping with my arm?”

Nodding, Steve changed direction to encircled Bucky’s waist in his large, strong hands. “Yeah, but maybe you want one more day to let the shoulder rest?.” He dropped a kiss on Bucky’s lips. “I’m glad you and Kevin are so close, Bucky.”

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded, “yeah, good idea.” He pulled back so he could put on his t-shirt.

Pausing, Steve shook his head, just noticing something. “You are going to be so itchy before an hour’s out, Bucky. You’re still soapy . . .”

“Oh,” Bucky blushed again, “yeah . . . uh - - Kevin came in while I was washing . . . he had a nightmare that I - -”

“To ask about gay sex?” Steve looked surprised.

“Uh - - no? He had a nightmare that I died in a car accident. Guess he watched a news report that more people die while falling asleep at the wheel than anything else,” Bucky quickly removed his clothing to jump in the shower again to rinse off.

Sighing, Steve kissed his husband again then left to go get dressed then hunt down the boys, to make sure they were ready.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all dressed and ready to go. Bucky grabbed his wallet and keys, patting his pockets a few times to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else.

Kevin took Bucky’s hand and kissed it, smiling up at his adoptive father. “TJ missed his journal, Papa.” He held up his own to demonstrate and gestured to TJ.

TJ blinked and looked around the room, “uh . . . I don’t know where it is?”

“Left it on the table, I think?” Steve asked, frowning softly.

“Before what?” TJ frowned and looked around the room, spotting the journal lying open near the wall. “Oh . . . right,” the brunet let out a breath, walked over, and grabbed his journal before turning back to his family, “okay, I think that’s it, right? We ready to go?”

Steve nodded and opened the door for the others. Riley stood smiling in the hall, having apparently just walked up to remind the family of their appointment with Bruce. Kevin grabbed Avenger’s leash, making sure his vest was properly fastened then led the small group out into the hall and down towards Bruce’s office. Riley chuckled. “Missing a female?”

“We gotta get Ava first?” Kevin asked.

“Yes, and hopefully she’s quick, we’re running behind already,” Steve said.

“We can pick her up after?” Bucky offered with a shrug.

Shaking his head, Steve said, “not if we’re going to ask for them to run blood tests on her, too. But . . . I guess we’ll have to make her an appointment instead.”

“Is Ava sick, too?” TJ asked softly.

Taking a slow breath, Steve said, “no. But with the rest of us sick, I thought it might be a good idea to have her checked.”

“Oh,” TJ nodded, “okay.”

“But not if we’re going to be late. We need to get the results of everyone’s tests as soon as we can so we can start treatments.” Steve frowned softly, looking at TJ. “And we’ve got something important to tell you about your results when Bruce can give us answers to questions you might have.”

Riley said, “if you want, I can call that Uber drive, Scott, to pick her up, and bring her back so she can get blood work? I can keep an eye out for her and bring her in when she arrives.”

Bucky turned and looked at Steve, “does that work?”

“Yeah, thanks, Riley! That’ll be perfect! Bucky? Can you write Becca a note so she’ll let Ava go with Scott?” He turned and smiled wide at his husband.

“Yeah . . .” Bucky nodded, opening the notebook to a blank page, “uh - - you have a pen?”

Kevin offered his. “I keep one hooked on my diary, Papa,” he explained. “Then I don’t forget it.” No one pointed out that Kevin wouldn’t forget it anyway.

Nodding, Bucky took the pen with a smile, “thanks, Tiger. I’ll have to do that, too.” He quickly jotted down a note for his sister that gave Scott permission to pick up Ava. Ever since the accident, his writing had gotten a bit messier, almost to the point of being illegible; he never quite got used to writing right handed.

Steve took the note with a smile, then the pen, and translated some of the harder words, as he’d often done for Bucky the past six years. “That’ll work, babe.” He leaned over to kiss his husband.

Bucky smiled softly into the kiss; he leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder, “you still meeting with Fisk tomorrow? That’s tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I had to make him wait until Tuesday, and I don’t like doing that. He’s busy and coming in from Manhattan. The least I can do is meet him face to face to explain that I won’t accept any more commissions for awhile, and that I’m not interested in a bigger studio all the way in Manhattan.”

“He’s creepy,” Bucky said, shaking his head.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before . . . twice,” Steve answered softly.

Bucky flinched and sighed, “sorry . . . guess the guy just rubs me the wrong way.”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re allowed an opinion,” Steve smiled and hugged him close briefly. Steve handed Riley the note. “Thanks, Riley. This is really nice.”

With a smile, Riley said, “any time for my favorite family.” He turned and trotted down the hall, letting them go to their appointment without an escort.

Steve led his family into the office Bruce normally used. He smiled. “I’ll go find out how long. Be right back.” He disappeared out the door, leaving Kevin, TJ, and Bucky sitting there.


	8. The Results Come In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Dissociative Flashback, Memory Loss, Cancer, Medical Procedures**

Bucky sighed and put his head in his hand, one leg bouncing nervously.

Kevin put his hand over Bucky’s knee and smiled up at him. “It will be okay, Papa.” He turned and took TJ’s hand, watching the other boy. “And I’m right here TJ. We can do anything together!”

TJ chewed on his bottom lip and nodded, squeezing Kevin’s hand.

Lifting his head to look over at Kevin, Bucky gave the boy a small, worried smile, “thanks, Tiger.” The brunet worried that the tests might reveal something really bad, like TJ’s tumor was inoperable.

“My Bucky, can we go to the zoo sometime?” Kevin asked, stroking Avenger’s neck. “Maybe see the clouded leopard that Ava likes so much?”

Blinking, Bucky looked at Kevin, remembering the last trip to the zoo; they hadn’t gone since that fateful day with Brock. The brunet looked around the office, his eyes worried and then he looked back at Kevin and TJ, no hint of recognition in those pale blue eyes. Bucky stood up cautiously, “where’s Ava? I’ve been good, where’s Ava?”

“Ava’s with her Mom,” Kevin answered simply. He watched Bucky with curiosity, still stroking the dog.

“Her mom? No, Becca’s in the hospital!” Bucky looked terrified.

Shaking his head, Kevin calmly answered, “No, _you’re_ in the hospital. Ava’s with her Mom.”

Bucky turned his head and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, his left side. His eyes widened and he grabbed at the stump of his left arm, “oh - - oh my God!” He looked back at the boys, still not even recognizing them, “my arm!”

Nodding, Kevin said, “it was too hurt. They had to take it off.”

Seeming more frantic, Bucky let out a low, pitiful whine, “where’s Ava? Brock has her . . . I’ve been good!”

“Brock doesn’t have Ava. Her Mom has her,” Kevin said again, watching his adopted father with a soft frown.

“No! Becca is in the hospital!” Bucky shouted, his panic and fear making his voice tremble.

Kevin winced and trembled, grey eyes widening. He tangled one hand into Avenger’s fur and the other clutched at TJ’s hand, still watching Bucky but looking uncertain suddenly. “Papa? You’re scaring me . . .”

TJ watched the scene unfold with wide eyes, not sure what was going on with Bucky.

“Papa?” Bucky shook his head, “I - - no . . . I don’t have a son. Where’s Ava?” The brunet walked over to the door and opened it.

“Please don’t leave us alone?” Kevin stood, looking worried and a bit scared. “What if someone takes me and sells me again?”

Looking back at the boy, Bucky insisted, “I have to find Ava. Brock has her.”

“Scott’s bringing her from Aunt Becca’s house. We’re supposed to get medical results of our scans. Dad’ll be back soon.” Kevin reached over and took Bucky’s hand, desperation creeping in his voice, making it sound younger than before. “Please don’t leave us?”

“I have to get to Ava! He’ll hurt her! You don’t understand!” Bucky insisted, his own desperation creeping into his tone.

“You’re not listening to me, Papa!” Kevin started crying. Avenger whimpered and looked from boy to man.

Bruce walked in through the door with Steve. “And . . . what’s this? Kevin, are you hurt?”

Kevin shook his head and let go of Bucky to run and hug Steve, hard. He didn’t speak, just cried. Steve looked shocked, glancing over TJ to verify he was okay, and looked to Bucky. “Buck? What happened?”

“Steve?” Bucky looked at the blond, fear in his wide eyes, “where’s Brock? He has Ava! He’s going to hurt her! Brock took my arm!”

“No, Brock’s been arrested and is in jail, Buck. Ava’s safe. _You’re_ safe.” Steve opened his free arm, indicating he wanted a hug from his husband.

Bucky shook his head, “No! Stop it! We gotta get her!”

“Bucky?” Steve dropped his voice to a soft whisper of hurt, “are you calling me a liar?”

“You hurt me. All I have is Ava, please, tell me where Brock has her,” Bucky begged desperately.

Steve nodded, like he was giving up. He walked over to Bucky, letting go of Kevin, and took the journal from his hand. “Read that. You wrote it.” He knew Bucky had written about the other flashback, had Bruce’s report tucked inside.

Looking at the journal, Bucky opened to the first page, the typed report of the last flashback, “I - - I don’t . . . I don’t under - - understand . . .” Bucky shook his head, “Brock has her, Steve . . . please . . . I don’t understand . . .” the brunet dropped the journal to grab the stump of his left arm, gripping tightly.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and hugged. He pried the brunet’s fingers from the stump and lifted their hands: Bucky’s right and his own left. “Please, Bucky, try to remember? We’re married now and Ava’s safe.” The light glinted off their wedding rings.

“Stop it!” Bucky shouted, trying to get away, “stop it! I’ve been good, I swear, don’t hurt her. I’ve been good!”

“Do you honestly think I’d help Brock hurt you?” Steve asked, letting Bucky go. He held up his hands, the scars from the window still evident. “That I’d lie to you? My God, Bucky, do you think I’d lie about marrying you? Adopting Ava? About our son, Kevin, and our cousin, TJ?” He gestured towards the crying boy. “You have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and get dissociative states. You’re having one now. But it’s 2016, two weeks before school starts, and you are safe! Ava is safe!”

Bruce sighed. “I could sedate him and admit him, but I don’t like to do that . . .”

Bucky stumbled back, a low whimper as he gripped at his hair, looking pained and confused.

Steve whirled on Bruce. “No! Bucky’s _not_ crazy! We aren’t admitting him. He’s here for his brain scan results to see why he has memory issues, not for a psychiatric evaluation, Bruce!”

Kevin sank onto the floor, leaning against the wall, his dog close by. The boy continued to cry, extremely hurt that Bucky had forgotten _him_. No matter what else his Papa had forgotten, he’d never forgotten _Kevin_ before. At first it sounded like he was merely babbling, but after a few minutes, and his voice rising, it was evident that Kevin was reciting something. It sounded like he was reciting a television show, maybe a violent one, as he was repeating hateful words and swears in a imitation deep voice and an answering imitation higher voice, mixed in with his own voice interjecting that “Kevin good! Pwomise! Kevin good!”

“Shit!” Steve knelt down by his son and pulled him into strong arms, “it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. No one’s gonna hurt you now, Kevin, I promise.”

Bucky stumbled until his back hit the opposite wall; he slid down and wrapped his arm around his legs, bringing them close to his chest.

Bruce knelt down by Bucky and gently said, “I’m Dr. Bruce Banner, and this is the Maria Stark Free Clinic. You’re here because you had a head injury and forget things. I’m going to scan your head to make sure you don’t have any worse injuries, Bucky. Is that okay?” He figured if they couldn’t talk Bucky down, at least they could try to get him in the scanner for a second test, like they had TJ and Kevin.

Looking at Bruce, Bucky nodded, eyes miserable and confused, “hurts . . .”

“Your arm or your head?” Bruce asked gently, carefully helping his patient to his feet. He began walking him to the hallway, waving to Riley headed in their direction. The nurse trotted over, frowning as he got closer.

“Both . . . hurts . . .” Bucky whimpered, looking at Riley, once again no recognition in his eyes as he looked at his friend of eleven years.

Riley recognized a fugue state when he saw it in his friend and nodded, professionally. “Hello, Mr. Rogers. I’m Riley Wilson. If you’ll come with me, I can see to your scan and get you something for your pain.” He gently wrapped an arm around Bucky from his left, leaving Bruce holding Bucky’s arm.

“Barnes . . . Barnes . . .” Bucky murmured.

“Barnes,” Riley repeated on a nod. “Can you answer what year it is, Mr. Barnes?” The two medical staff led Bucky down the hall, leaving Steve tending Kevin and TJ in the office.

“Steve said 2016 . . .” Bucky whimpered; his head pounded and his shoulder ached.

“And what do _you_ say?” Riley prompted.

“It’s 2006 . . . 2006, Brock has her . . . he hit me . . .” Bucky muttered, his feet beginning to drag against the floor.

“And when did Brock take her, Mr. Barnes?” Riley asked gently, some urgency in his voice, as if he, too, wished to rescue her and needed more information to do that.

“Don’t . . . I - - I don’t know . . .” Bucky shook his head.

“So, maybe he threatened but hasn’t gotten to her?” Riley asked.

“Yeah . . . at the store,” Bucky nodded.

“So, Ava’s at the store?” Riley asked. “Do you want to call Natasha and make sure Ava’s okay?”

“H - - how do you know Natasha?” Bucky looked at Riley.

“I’ve known Natasha Barton for eleven years, Bucky. We’re good friends.” Riley smiled at Bucky, his voice understanding and reasonable.

Bucky blinked, looking at Riley and then Bruce, “Riley? Bruce? Wh - - what’s going on?”

Bruce looked relieved. “You dissociated again, Bucky, back to 2006. Here’s the scan room.” He leaned over to open the door and led Bucky in, Riley still with a comforting around wrapped around his side and waist.

Looking exhausted, Bucky nodded, “‘m sorry . . .”

Shaking his head, Bruce let go to allow Riley to help Bucky get positioned. The doctor continued speaking, however. “It’s okay, Bucky. No one’s hurt physically. Steve even refused to allow me to sedate or admit you, insisting on just getting the scan.”

“Physically?” Bucky whimpered.

“Steve’s with Kevin and TJ right now. We’ll go back and talk to them after we’re done, Bucky,” Bruce nodded and began working the machines. “Please try to stay calm and don’t move.” They finished as quickly as possible and Riley assisted Bucky off the scanner bed.

“Do you still want pain medication for your arm and head, Bucky?” he asked quietly.

“N - - no,” Bucky shook his head; he looked miserable and exhausted. He wobbled slightly as he got to his feet.

Riley caught him up and held him supported, one arm once more around him. “You’ll be okay, Bucky. We’ll figure this out,” he soothed.

Bucky didn’t say anything, just nodded and continued to lean against Riley. The stocky blond led his patient down the hall towards Bruce’s office. Quietly, before they got there, he said, “you dissociated to 2006. Means you didn’t know Kevin or TJ, weren’t together with Steve, and thought Ava was five. When I saw you in the hall, I could hear Kevin crying and Steve trying to calm him, but I wasn’t there for the entire episode, just the tail end.”

Bucky looked even more miserable, crumbling under his guilt; he wondered just how badly he’d damaged Kevin and TJ . . . hopefully the boys would understand that Bucky never _wanted_ to forget them.

They walked into the room, and Kevin looked miserable but had stopped crying. He still sat on the floor, wrapped in Steve’s arms, as Steve talked very quietly into his son’s ear, his other arm around TJ and holding the brunet close. Avenger looked over and let out a soft whimper to Bucky, drawing the attention of the trio. Kevin pulled from Steve slowly and asked, voice small, “are you doing better, Mr. Barnes?”

“Kevin . . .” Bucky’s voice sounded broken.

Leaping over and wrapping his arms tightly around his Papa, Kevin whimpered, “you know me.”

Bucky knelt down, Riley letting him go carefully, slightly wobbly, and wrapped his arm around his son. The brunet peppered small kisses on Kevin’s temple and head, “I’m so sorry, Tiger . . . I’m so, so sorry . . .” Bucky sounded like his was trying to keep himself together, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s okay, Papa, just so’s you’re back now.” Kevin still held on fiercely, not wanting to let his father out of his site, out of his grasp, for fear of losing him again. There were so many people Kevin had to keep safe and close, the number was beginning to get dizzying for the child.

Steve stepped over and knelt, pulling both father and son into his arms, dropping a kiss on Bucky’s head. He reached over to grab TJ into the hug, as well. “I love you three so much . . .”

TJ didn’t say anything, still in shock over what had happened in such a short amount of time. He went where Steve tugged and let the adult pull him into the group hug. Malakai waited close by, tail thumping against the floor, watching the group closely.

“Uncle Bucky? Steve?” Ava’s voice called from the doorway, sounding concerned, “what happened?”

Steve looked over, “Come on in, Ava. We’re in the middle of a very much needed family hug.” He held out his arm to the teenager, noting the slightly shy manner about her but putting it down to coming in on such an odd, emotionally charged scene.

Ava knelt down and cuddled into Steve’s once more opened arm, Kevin being the one he let go since Bucky hugged the small boy.

“You know that when someone is post traumatic they can think they’re back in whatever caused the trauma, right, princess?” Steve asked gently. “It’s called flashbacks.”

“Yeah . . . like war vets, right? They come back and think they are in war?” Ava nodded, her voice soft.

“Or kidnap victims,” Steve agreed, waiting for Ava’s response to that clarification.

Ava didn’t say anything. She looked at her uncle, still holding Kevin tightly; she could see his body trembling.

“Your Uncle Bucky’s been having traumatic flashbacks to when you were five.” Steve sighed, and cuddled all four.

Ava didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything, though it was clear she was worried about her uncle. She didn’t remember a whole lot about that time, but she knew that Bucky had been taken by _the bad man_ and she could remember the bruises that covered his face.

Steve kissed Bucky’s head. “The scan results should be back soon. Why don’t we let Bucky, Kevin, and TJ get on the bed and Ava and I will take chairs? Ava? Have you been feeling well? Tired? Headaches? Anything?” Steve slowly untangled the group and scooped up Bucky and Kevin with small effort. He placed them on the exam table in Bruce’s office then scooped up TJ to place with them. He dragged a chair close so he could reach out and touch Bucky’s leg.

“No, I’ve been feeling fine,” Ava answered with a small flush, as she sat down in the chair next to Steve.

Riley smiled and pulled over a bloodwork kit. He began wrapping elastic tubing around Ava’s arm. “We’ll do bloodwork just in case,” he assured her.

“Okay,” Ava nodded, allowing the nurse to do the test as she watched her uncle and Kevin. Bucky looked tired, even worse than when they’d dropped her off at Becca’s, and Kevin looked like he’d just finished crying. Her eyes moved to TJ, and the boy appeared just as tired and a little paler than normal.

Once he’d drawn several tubes, Riley covered her arm, removed the needle and released the tourniquet. He taped the bandage in place. “Bruce might want to sign you up for a scan, too, Ava, so don’t go running off to the circus or anything.” He smiled.

“Okay,” Ava answered, though the joke fell flat because she didn’t even smile, too concerned over her family.

Bruce stepped over. “Ready for the scan results, guys?” He held four different folders.

Bucky looked up and nodded, he almost hoped there wouldn’t be any worse news than what they’d gotten the night before.

Bruce nodded and placed the first scans on the wall, displaying a chest. Bruce began walking them through the images, pointing out the cross-section of the heart the new cutting-edge technology had picked out. Steve’s heart, for none of the others had their heart scanned, looked slightly misshapen, larger on one side than the other, and what seemed to be a hole where it didn’t belong, what Bruce called a _murmur_. He turned to them. “There’s nothing we didn’t expect except for this slight atrophy over here. That’s worrying. It means something in his heart stopped working at some point and that part just never worked right. Somehow his heart has made up for this loss, too.”

Bucky looked at the scan, a worried frown on his face.

Steve ran a worried hand over Bucky’s leg. “So what do we do?”

“Monitor, keep up with your medications and exercise routine, and eat right. Keep the night time exercising light . . . being the less dominant partner, as we discussed earlier. Like you have been.” Bruce smiled at them. “It’s not the chest scan I’m worried about, it’s the head scans I did on the rest of you.”

At that point, Bruce replaced Steve’s chest scan with what could only be Bucky’s stump. He pointed out the nerves that were acting up. “Tony will consult with you about a lighter alloy he’s been working with. It should relieve some of the heavy pressure on those nerves.”

Bucky nodded, “what about the head scans?” The arm had been bothering him, but he was more concerned about his, TJ’s and Kevin’s head scans.

Replacing the arm with the three head scans, two smaller than the other, the scans were incredibly alike. The larger one had colors that looked different from the poster featuring a _normal_ brain which hung by the viewer. The smallest one had most of the same colors. However, the third scan contained a slightly darker patch towards the top of the brain and seemed so large in such a small area.

Looking at the scans, Bucky’s heart dropped at the sight on TJ and Kevin’s scan, “those are both . . .”

“These color patterns are indicative of post traumatic brains experiencing post traumatic stress disorder,” Bruce started, indicating the larger, Bucky's, scan and the smallest, Kevin's. He pointed to the other scan, TJ’s. “And this color here indicates something abnormal. It could be a growth or a bleed.”

“What . . . what happens now?” Bucky frowned, looking at Steve.

TJ looked at the scans with a tilted head, looking a little confused. His pale eyes flickered to look at Bruce and then back at the scans.

Bruce answered for them. “Well, let me show you the next set of scans for TJ.” Bruce put up the clearer, more in depth scans Riley had done. “This,” he indicated the now clearer patch, “is a tumor, TJ. A growth on your brain that’s causing your seizures. It’s growing quickly, so surgery is not the best option.” He looked at the little boy and offered a smile. “But the good news is we have medicine you can take to make it stop growing and shrink it down. It’s been doing wonders for eighty percent of the patients who take it.”

“Will the medicine make the seizures stop?” TJ asked softly.

Nodding, Bruce said, “once the growing stops and reverses, it should help ease the pressure and odd electrical jumps in your brain. But it’ll take a few weeks for it to go into full effect. Until then, TJ, you’ll need to stay here in the clinic so you can be monitored in case of another bad seizure.”

“What . . . what about school? I was supposed to go to school with Kevin . . .” TJ frowned, looking worried.

Kevin piped up. “You start here at the clinic in our apartment using the internet. Riley said the teacher has _skype_ and can include you in the class on the computer so you won’t miss anything and can answer questions and get homework and notes. Once you’re feeling better I can introduce you to everyone and they’ll finally get to meet the kid on the computer.” He petted TJ’s curls.

“I . . . okay?” TJ swallowed thickly, his fingers tapping on his thighs.

Steve stroked TJ’s back. “And I will be staying home from the gallery with you to help you with your lessons or anything else. I’m going to take a break for a bit. Okay, baby?”

Looking at Steve, TJ nodded slowly, “will . . . will the medicine make me sick? I remember Nana taking medicine that made her sick.”

Bruce nodded. “I’m afraid so, TJ. The medicine will make you feel worse for awhile while your body gets used to all the new chemicals. Then it will start working. But while your body’s fighting the cancer, it’ll be tired and achy and you’ll probably throw up and even lose your curls. Your hair will grow back, TJ,” Bruce added, knowing many people had trouble with that aspect of this disease. The doctor was being honest with the boy, meeting his eyes and answering his questions readily.

Looking at Bruce, TJ asked, his voice trembling slightly, “I’m not going to Heaven, am I? I - - I . . . don’t wanna go . . . not yet.”

Bruce smiled and leaned forward to place a gentle hand on TJ’s shoulder. “Not yet, Champ. This medicine is one of many things we can try, but it’s the one that works fastest and makes you least sick. So that’s why we’ll try it first. If it doesn’t work, we have maybe a hundred other things we can try. We aren’t going to let you die yet. You need to do so much, and Malakai would be lost without you.”

Nodding, TJ reached out to pet the dog’s ear, “okay . . . when . . . when will I start taking the medicine?”

Bruce smiled wider and said, “that’s the good news, TJ. We can start you right along with your breakfast this morning. It’s one of the reasons we told Steve to get you here before you ate. How’s that sound? Wanna start fighting this tumor right away?”

TJ nodded, his hand squeezing Kevin’s again, “yeah . . . I wanna fight it.”

Bruce nodded. “Good. And for the rest of you guys with your increased symptoms? I want you all in this clinic and not your regular home until the environmental scans are done. Steve, be very careful to cover up and properly dispose your clothing for cleaning if you insist on finishing that painting, but no more commissions unless you paint at the gallery or a different studio. I have suspicions there’s some kind of heavy metal leaching into your water or something from the new construction being done. We’re running further tests to rule out the heavy metals, like arsenic and magnesium.”

Bucky squeezed Kevin gently and then gave the rest of his family a small smile, “we’ll be okay. Bruce will help us get better.”

Steve reached over his other hand and squeezed Ava’s hand, not leaving her out as he stroked Bucky’s thigh lightly. “We’ll all do this together, guys. We love each other, and that is the best healer. If you combine love with the doctor’s best efforts, you can do amazing things.”

Kevin finally looked over at his Dad and adoptive sister. He let go of Bucky with one arm and rubbed at his eyes with his wrist. He didn’t let go of TJ, however, still holding his adoptive cousin tight.

Bucky looked at Steve; he gave his husband a small smile though his eyes were worried as he continued to soothe Kevin.

Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m sorry it wasn’t better news, but it was better than I thought. Sometimes we don’t pick up anything, and then we have to dig even deeper. At least, we can see what’s wrong right here.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, nodding his agreement; he looked back at the doctor, “is there anything else we can do today?”

“Rest and enjoy being together? Do whatever else you had planned?” Bruce smiled. “When the blood work and the testing comes back for the house, we’ll have more.”

Bucky nodded, taking a deep breath and giving Kevin another kiss on the top of the head. He looked at his husband, “wanna go back to the apartment?”

“Yeah, Buck. Let’s go back to our home away from home.” He smiled. “Need me to carry you, Kevin? TJ?”

“No, Dad, I can walk,” Kevin said quietly. He gave Bucky one last hug and stood on trembling legs, wrapping his arms around Avenger for a moment before finally straightening and turning to offer his hand to TJ.

“I’m okay,” TJ said to Steve before taking Kevin’s hand and slipping off the bed.

Bruce gave them appointments and last bits of information and advice before seeing them to the hall, where Scott and Sharon stood, talking.

Ava followed a few steps behind the group; she looked worried and scared. The word _tumor_ brought images of sick victims and all the horrors of _cancer_. She was terrified that they’d lose either Kevin or TJ, or God forbid, both. It wasn’t fair. Their little family had been through so much and the bad things just kept coming. The teenager couldn’t help but feel horrible for the things she’d said to her uncle on Thursday night; she’d called him a _cripplewhere_ she wanted to go for school. She wanted to be a nurse, work at the Maria Stark Clinic, but she hadn’t decided where to go to school yet.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll bounce right back in once you’re with your friends again,” Steve smiled, lifting his head as they ended up in front of the apartment. Steve let her go at last. He paid Scott the money for the running around he’d done. Steve led the way up inside.

Kevin sighed and merely stood in the hallway, looking miserable and holding TJ’s hand. TJ seemed to be processing the news he’d received; he looked worried.

Bucky, though not looking _miserable_ , did look exhausted as he leaned against the couch, almost like he had troubles holding himself up. He looked at Ava, “Hey, Squirt, how was Mom’s?”

Steve looked to Ava but he didn’t prompt Bucky. Instead he said, “I’m going to make breakfast, guys. When Bruce brings the medicine, let him in so we can find out the way it needs to be handled. Ava, why don’t you sit with Bucky in the living room? Talk?”

Ava nodded and both her and Bucky sat on the couch. They talked about their weekends.

After about ten minutes, an almost inaudible tread sounded towards TJ’s room accompanied by clicking toenails.

Bucky looked over and watched with a worried frown as Kevin and TJ went to the room . . . the boys could still have seizures at any moment, so the possibility of their needing help concerned him. He patted Ava’s knee and slowly stood up. He used the wall to keep himself upright as he followed the boys.

The boys walked into TJ’s bedroom, followed by their service dogs, and Kevin lay on the bed, on his front, and buried his face in his arms, body heaving. The dog lay his head on the side of the bed watching Kevin with wide brown eyes. TJ stood in the room, looking around, almost like he was unsure what to do. Malakai stayed faithfully by his side.

Knocking on the doorjamb, Bucky asked softly, “Kevin? TJ? Can I come in?”

Nodding into his arms, Kevin remained in that same pose, not really moving except his head nod. TJ nodded his agreement as well.

Bucky walked into the room and sank on the edge of the bed, he dropped his hand on Kevin’s back and began rubbing soothing circles, “wanna talk about it?” He patted the bed next to him, offering TJ a small smile. They brunet boy wordlessly took the adult’s invitation and sat on the edge of the bed.

Kevin turned over, Bucky’s hand falling to his stomach instead. Looking miserable, the eleven year old asked, “am I going into your diary now, Papa?”

Swallowing, Bucky sighed and patted the boy’s abdomen gently, “I . . . I’m sorry, Kevin. I never meant to . . .” the brunet looked down at his lap, “I love you so much, Tiger. I’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

“I know, Papa,” Kevin met his adoptive father’s pale blue eyes with equally pale grey ones. “But if you put something in your lost memory book, is it because you keep forgetting them?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “um . . . did that happen?” He ventured, frowning.

Kevin nodded back. “Yeah. You kept thinking you were a prisoner and that he had Ava. And you didn’t believe anyone who told you anything else. You yelled at us. It wasn’t till you talked to Riley that you believed us.” He didn’t mention again that Bucky had forgotten him; Kevin wasn’t one to harp at someone else.

Sighing, Bucky dropped his head, continuing to rub Kevin’s tummy, “I don’t remember that . . . I remember sitting in the office with you . . . then I was in the hallway with Bruce and Riley.”

“We were talking about things and you got lost, Papa.” Kevin sat up and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him. “I thought you were gonna be lost forever.”

Bucky wrapped his arm around Kevin and dropped a kiss on the boy’s temple, “I’m really sorry you had to see that, Kevin, TJ. I’ll always try to come back to you both.”

Sitting back a little, Kevin studied Bucky’s face, as serious as ever. Finally, he said, “it must scare you a lot when you get lost, huh?”

“Yeah, Tiger, it does,” Bucky confirmed, brushing Kevin’s platinum hair from his forehead.

Nodding, Kevin put both hands on Bucky’s hand and looked him in the eye. “It’s okay if you get lost, Papa. It’s not your fault. It’s like my seizures and messing myself. We’re gonna get fixed up. Until then,” Kevin nodded a bit, not breaking eye contact, “if you get lost, I’ll help you come back to us every time. Okay? Cause even if you can’t remember, I never forget.”

Bucky watched Kevin closely, eyes shining with tears, he hugged his son closely and buried his face in the boy’s soft hair, “thank you, Tiger,” Bucky breathed, voice shaking.

“I love you, My Bucky.” Kevin leaned into the hug.

“I love you, too, Kevin. Always,” Bucky promised.

From just outside the door, Steve called, “hey, everything okay, guys?”

“Yeah, we're okay,” Bucky called back, voice cracking with emotion. He pulled back from Kevin and gave his son a soft smile, his eyes still shimmering with unshed tears.

“Well, me and Ava are gonna start in on the waffles?” Steve called back, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“We’ll be right there,” Bucky said; he turned back to the boys, “hungry? Your Dad makes a mean waffle,” the brunet didn’t feel hungry himself, but knew Kevin and TJ often needed encouragement.

“Yeah, you?” Kevin smiled back hopefully.

“Yeah, I can eat,” Bucky lied, giving his son a smile.

“TJ, gonna eat yours with strawberries?” Kevin asked, smiling at the twelve year old.

Nodding, TJ stood up and gave Kevin his crooked smile, “the only way to eat a waffle!”

Kevin slid from the bed and paused by the door, waiting for his father to join him, not seeing the lie Bucky had used. He held out his hands, “we’ll get through this together, right TJ? Papa?”

Getting up slowly, Bucky nodded and took Kevin’s hand, looking at TJ with a soft smile, “yeah, Tiger, together.”

**************

Steve really didn’t want to go to the studio at all, but he had to meet with his client. He respected all his clients too much to blow them off or change the meetings he made without really good reason. Finding out TJ had a tumor was a good reason to some, but what could he do at this early stage except wait on the medicine to start working? Best to get this over and done, tell Mr. Fisk he wasn’t interested, and let him find another artist to sponsor. Steve finished knotting his tie and ran a comb through his hair once more.

Bucky leaned against the doorjamb, coffee in hand, “you goin’ somewhere?”

Steve glanced over. “I have an appointment at the gallery this morning with Wilson Fisk,” he reminded his husband.

Nose scrunching up, Bucky took a sip of his drink.

Seeing the look, Steve nodded, “yeah, I know, I know. He’s _creepy_.” Steve walked over and kissed Bucky’s nose tip.

“He _is_ ,” Bucky murmured; he looked up at his husband, “whatcha meeting about again?”

“He wants to commission more artwork to go with his _Sunrise’no’_ on both counts,” Steve offered a smile at his husband.

“He wants to give you a larger gallery?” Bucky shook his head and took another sip of his coffee, “probably wants a lot of your sales or something . . .”

Steve chuckled at the sudden variation in their normal _hashing over Fisk_ conversation. “Probably, that’s the idea when you sponsor someone.”

Bucky scrunched up his nose again, “ _creepy_ , I tell ya.”

A ringtone sounded from Steve’s phone and he pulled it out to check. “Clint’s here.”

“Clint was coming?” Bucky frowned, but turned to walk downstairs to answer the door.

“Said he would stay with you in case you needed help with Kevin, TJ, and Ava,” Steve answered, following his husband.

Humming, Bucky nodded, “well, that’s very nice of him,” he knew it was more than just helping with Ava and Kevin and TJ . . . Steve didn’t want to leave him alone. Bucky would be lying to himself if that revelation didn’t sting a little.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice went softer.

Looking over his shoulder, Bucky frowned at Steve’s tone, “yeah?”

Steve looked worried and guilty. “If you flashback, Clint was someone you knew and trusted back then. He can probably calm you down and get you back quick.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Bucky sighed.

Steve allowed Clint to come into the apartment. Bucky’s old friend, and one of his bosses, entered, calling out, “Honey! I’m home!” Steve shook his head with a smile for Bucky.

“Hey, Clint, thanks for coming,” Bucky gave his friend a small smile.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come over to play with the other kids,” he shot back with a laugh, dressed in shorts, t-shirt, and deck shoes. “So, the kids up yet?”

“Uncle Clint!” Ava beamed, coming over from the kitchen, “is Daniel with you?”

Whirling around, Clint laughed, “Pumpkin Pie! Yeah. Wasn’t sure if he was allowed in, but he’s here.” Clint looked to Bucky for permission to bring his son in.

Bucky looked at Steve; they hadn’t gone over the rules of Ava’s punishment, “That okay, Steve?”

“Ava, what do _you_ think? You’re the one who’s grounded,” Steve asked.

Smile fading, Ava sighed, “I don’t know . . .” she’d hoped with the awful news from yesterday that her punishment might be over.

Nodding, Steve said, “you remember why you’re grounded, right?” He crossed his arms, keeping an ear out for Scott’s arrival.

“Yes, I rigged it so Freddy could sneak in through Kevin and TJ’s room and shut off the security system . . . I won’t do it again,” Ava looked at Steve and then Bucky.

“What do you think, Bucky? Ava learned a lesson?” Steve asked evenly.

“I . . . uh - - think so?” Bucky offered, he’d never been good at keeping up a punishment. In the heat of the moment, he was often the one to dish them out, but after he’d calmed down he usually lifted it. Although, this time was a little different because Steve gave it out.

Nodding, Steve looked at Ava. “Okay, we’ll compromise and see if you’ve learned. You may have guests over here but you aren’t allowed to go out partying, shopping, or visiting. Your guest needs to leave by nightfall unless previously approved.”

“That’s fair,” Ava nodded.

“And Freddy is still not allowed over because he doesn’t respect you, Ava,” Steve pushed.

Ava nodded, “yeah. Don’t wanna see him anyways.”

“Good girl, princess. Okay, Daniel’s got permission to come in and stay as long as Clint does,” the sound of Scott in the hall greeting Riley alerted Steve, and he gave Ava a smile then Bucky a kiss. “Be back soon, guys.” Steve hurried out the door, waving to Daniel standing in the hall while waiting for permission to come in.

The drive to the gallery attached to the bookstore went quickly and Steve soon thanked Scott and checked his watch, grateul he had half an hour before the appointment. He walked over to the bookstore entrance and into the shop. “Hey, Natasha.”

“Hello, Steve,” Natasha smiled softly, finishing up with a customer before walking over to Steve from behind the counter, “what happened at the appointment? James said they were running tests?”

“Yeah, I can’t talk long, but I’ll tell you very briefly, they found a tumor on TJ’s brain. They’ve started him on meds yesterday morning.” Steve sighed, sagging a bit, his face drawn, not spotting the large man dressed in black over in the _Economic_ shelves.

Natasha’s eyes flickered over to the large man, having forgotten Wilson Fisk was in her store with her worry over her friend. “You have a visitor, Steve. We’ll discuss it later.” She disappeared behind the counter, stacking shelves of _New Releases_.

Frowning, Steve glanced around then checked his watch, still twenty-five minutes. He took a deep breath and smoothed his suit down, walking over. “I’m sorry the gallery wasn’t open for your arrival, sir. I can wait for you to finish browsing if you’d like?”

Fisk put the book he’d been looking at on the shelf before turning to look at Steve, “it was no problem. I had not gotten to look at this little shop yet, very nice,” Fisk nodded as he looked around and then stepped up to Steve, towering over the large blond, “how is your family? I do hope your appointments brought good news?”

Steve winced and sighed. “No, I’m afraid not, sir. But with the new medicine, there’s some hope.” He gestured towards the discreet door attaching the gallery to the bookstore. “Would you like to talk, Mr. Fisk? I’m sure you’re quite busy and this meeting wasn’t how you originally tried to schedule?”

“I would,” Wilson stepped over to the door, waiting for Steve to unlock it, “and do not worry about that, Steve. One cannot help family being sick. I respect a man who cares for his family.”

Steve unlocked it and opened the door. He flicked on the light and preceded the man into the gallery. Nodding, he said, “thank you for your understanding. They mean the world to me. It would be easier if only one was sick at a time, but having my foster son diagnosed with a brain tumor . . . and my son’s epilepsy has gotten worse, while my husband’s post traumatic has, as well.” He shook his head, eyes holding worry.

Wilson nodded, eyes sympathetic as he lay a large hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I cannot imagine. Your son is a very sweet boy and your husband seems like a kind man, a very good father. Your foster son? Thomas Hammond?”

Nodding his agreement, Steve smiled softly at the image in his head of TJ and Kevin holding hands. “Yes, sir. TJ came to us after his family was killed in an accident. June. He’s Bucky’s cousin.”

“I met him at the market with your husband and other son,” Fisk said with a nod, voice sympathetic, “a tragedy what happened to the boy’s family. You said a tumor?”

“Yes, on the brain. It’s about the size of a walnut and causing TJ to seize, as well.” Steve shook his head. “But the doctors have high hopes with this medicine they’ve started him on.”

“Well, pass my well wishes to your family, will you?” Fisk said.

Steve said, “thank you, Mr. Fisk, I will. They mean the world to me. Your words are very kind.” Turning with a small, wavering smile for his client, Steve gestured to a pair of comfortable chairs at a coffee table. “Would you like something to drink or eat, sir?” he offered.

Fisk sat down, “I am fine right now, Steve, thank you.” The large man watched Steve closely, his eyes not leaving the blond.

Sitting down on the facing chair, Steve nodded. “Your _Sunrise_ is almost done, sir. I think those paints bring out a kind of glow in the entire work, like a pearly effect.”

Smiling softly, Fisk nodded, “I cannot wait to see the finished product. And, yes, those paints were something I came across in my world travels.”

“Well, they add such a beautiful effect. I wouldn’t prefer them for most of my work, but for the subject they seem just right.” Steve watched his client with that same worried air buried under an attempt at calm.

“I am sure they are working wonderfully,” Fisk nodded, still smiling softly; for a large man, Wilson Fisk spoke very quietly, almost awkwardly. “So, Steve, have you thought about my offer?”

“Yes, sir, I have. But I’m afraid I don’t see a need to move to bigger premises at this point in my career . . .” he dropped off when his client began to speak.

“You said your husband and sons are ill, yes?” Fisk asked, watching Steve with intense eyes.

Worry shot through Steve’s eyes and he nodded. “Yes, Bucky’s been having problems with his post traumatic disorder on top of TJ’s tumor, and Kevin’s seizures have become almost daily.” He shook his head, “which is why, after I’m done with your commission, I’ll be taking a sabbatical from painting. I won’t need a larger . . .” again, he stopped when Fisk spoke.

“As you should,” Wilson nodded, voice calm, “family always comes first. You do realize with a larger gallery you could hire several assistants? You could be at home, tending your family instead of spending your days at a gallery.”

Nodding, Steve answered, “Assistants can arrange and sell my art, yes, sir, but they can’t paint it. Soon we’d be out of stock, and a larger gallery would be a waste of your money.”

“Would it?” Fisk looked thoughtful, as if he seriously considered Steve’s claim, “tell me, Steve, are the paintings you have hanging in your gallery all you have?”

“I have a couple of others, but, yes, sir. This is pretty much the entire stock.” Steve glanced around at the twenty-odd canvases tastefully displayed in the small gallery. He looked back at Fisk.

“And if I offered to move you to a slightly larger building, though not as big as my first offer, right here in Brooklyn? Just down the street, actually, would you still decline?” Wilson said, calmly, quietly.

“I’m not sure, sir. Going on sabbatical, you wouldn’t have any fresh stock coming in. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone from the art scene, as long as Bucky, Kevin, and TJ are sick. Here, my friends own the gallery. They can shut it down and convert it back to a store room if they need to once the art is gone. But to rent a building solely for my use when I wouldn’t be using it properly,” Steve shook his head, “I’m flattered you want to support _me_ out of all the artists you could choose, but, sir, I don’t see it being profitable for you in the end. Not with my hiatus in painting.”

Fisk nodded; he stood up and smoothed down his suit jacket, “well, I can see you are adamant. We could go places, Steve, you and I.”

Smiling softly at the man, Steve stood and offered his hand. “I know, and perhaps someday we can bring this possible jointure back up, if you’re still interested. But right now, the deal, while extremely tempting wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t think it’d be right starting off a working relationship by taking advantage of my associate.”

“You are a very honest man, Steve, I like that,” Fisk shook Steve’s hand, quickly and firmly before dropping it.

“I do regret having to drag you down here out of schedule, Mr. Fisk. But I appreciate you giving me the chance to talk face to face about our concerns.” Steve dropped his hand.

“Face to face is the best way to discuss business, Steve,” Fisk turned towards the door and stopped, “Oh! I almost forgot to ask. You have a sixteen year old daughter, right?”

“Yes, sir, Ava, my husband’s niece, but we’ve adopted her. Her mother works here in the gallery.” Steve offered a smile to Fisk.

“Right. The little brunet that works the counter,” Fisk nodded, “I was wondering if Ava and a friend, maybe, might be interested in working some odd jobs for me here and there? Mostly delivering documents and items to some of my business partners when I can’t make the delivery myself.”

Steve nodded, “you’d have to clear that with Bucky, sir. I adopted her, but he’s her legal guardian and makes all the decisions for Ava and TJ. I make the decisions for Kevin, whom he adopted, but is my biological son. A complicated family, I know.”

“Ah, yes, well . . . maybe I’ll call some time this week, then?” Fisk offered.

Nodding, Steve smiled a bit wider. “That would work. Bucky took off a couple of weeks from the bookstore, so he’d be at home if you call in advance. You have my cell number, so he’s sure to get the call. Right now we’re staying in a clinic, like a hospice, while TJ and the others are so sick.”

“Tell him to be expecting a call later this week, will you, Steve?” Fisk headed towards the door.

Nodding, Steve honestly answered, “I will, sir.” He walked Fisk to the door and opened it for him. “And thank you for coming, sir. It was a real pleasure to talk with you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Steve. Do pass on my well wishes to your husband and sons,” Fisk nodded, stepping out of the gallery.

“Thank you, sir. And my hope for your good health, as well.” He knew Fisk wasn’t married and didn’t know of any children. Steve smiled softly and waited until Fisk got to his car and opened the door before he shut the gallery door and locked it until Becca showed. He turned and headed into the bookstore, sinking down on a chair in the children’s section and putting hs head in his hands.


	9. Learning to Cope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: Cancer, Seizures, Frustration and Angst**

Natasha slid a cup of tea over to the blond, “go well?” She watched Steve, head in hands, closely.

“As well as I could have hoped,” Steve took the tea with a thankful smile. “I told him I’m going to finish _Sunrise_ then go on hiatus for awhile. I also turned down his offer of a larger gallery in Manhattan then one here in Brooklyn.”

“Bucky told me about that,” Natasha nodded, her face remaining neutrally calm, “he didn’t seem very excited about the offer.”

“He’s not,” Steve chuckled. “He repeatedly calls him _creepy_.”

Laughing softly, Natasha nodded, “well, he _is_ a little . . . off? Like he doesn’t deal with people enough. How do you feel about turning the offer down?”

“I feel comfortable here,” Steve confessed, “it’s the perfect size for me and I love the owners. But,” he looked at Nat seriously, “if you guys need the room?”

“We gave you that room for a reason, Steve, we don’t need it. I wasn’t suggesting you move so we can get our space back . . . it’s just . . . what Fisk offered seemed too good to be true,” Natasha shrugged.

“Yeah, even without Bucky, TJ, and Kevin getting sick, I couldn’t see the economical point of Fisk moving me to a big gallery in Manhattan. The smaller offer for down the street was more reasonable if I wasn’t going on sabbatical, but still, not reasonably sound since I won’t be painting anything new for awhile. I’m not sure why he wants to sponsor me so badly, but I get undertones of possessiveness, like Brock? So, I’m glad to tell him no.” Steve sipped his tea with a sigh.

“You look like shit, Rogers. When’s the last time you had a decent night’s rest?” Natasha asked.

Looking at her, he shook his head, “about a month ago, actually. Ava started acting up and Bucky’s memory got worse then. Now we found out Kevin got worse, too, and TJ’s got a tumor . . . and I get palpitations sometimes.” He sipped again.

“Clint said you called last night? Having him watch Bucky and the kids?” Natasha questioned.

Nodding, Steve sat forward and put the mug on the table, unfinished. “Bucky’s been having flashbacks and thinking it’s 2006 and he’s Brock’s prisoner again. It’s happened twice in the last weekend, Natasha. And yesterday, he forgot who Kevin was and nearly ripped the kid’s heart out, figuratively speaking of course. I thought maybe someone to help if I’m not there, and Bucky suggested Clint as someone he trusted back then.” Steve shook his head. “And today he didn’t remember his suggestion at all. But he does have some short term memory problems from the car accident a few years back.”

Natasha frowned, shaking her head, “I don’t understand. How could his PTSD get so bad, so fast? Did Bruce find anything in Bucky’s scans? And TJ’s tumor, did Bruce say that it was relatively new?”

“He sounded like he thought it might be, actually, but I wasn’t about to point that out in front of them. Bruce said something about not having this technology back when Bucky’s accident happened and we got Kevin, so I let it stand at that. But I think Bruce is looking for why this would happen so fast to all of them. He suggested heavy metal poisoning at the house, like _arsenic_.” Leaning over to fiddle with the mug but not lift it, Steve said, “The tumor, Natasha, is growing this fast? It’s got to be malignant and dangerous. That’s aggressive.”

Sighing, Natasha nodded, “well, there isn’t much we can do until more tests are done. But, Steve . . . you need rest, too. You can’t help any of them of them dead on your feet.”

“I’ve actually slept about six hours a night, Natasha. It’s just this damn heart of mine. The scans were terrifying until Bruce explained them. Now their only scarey.” He sighed. “But I always feel like I’ve run a marathon if I do the slightest activity. I get tired so easily. And the frustration of trying to finish that commission isn’t helping, even if Mr. Fisk is being very nice about the pace.”

Nodding, seeing how that could be very frustrating, Natasha said, though her eyes were worried, “have you considered moving him back into the clinic? Until they figure out what’s wrong?” She knew, with the kids starting school, that Steve, Ava and Kevin would need to stay at the house to remain in the right school district.

“We’ve already moved back to the clinic.” Steve took a slow breath and added softly, “Bruce wants to admit Bucky for psych evals, Natasha.”.

“And . . . what do you think, Steve?” Natasha prodded.

Shaking his head, Steve said, “Bucky’s not crazy, Nat. He’s got problems, but insanity isn’t one of them.”

“But, Steve,” Natasha sighed, running her fingers through her hair, “he may need round the clock care. Bruce wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t think it’d help.”

“Natasha, do you remember back a few years when Bucky had such bad anxiety attacks he was hurting himself?” Steve met her eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha nodded.

“He was utterly terrified of being admitted like Becca. I won’t do that to him unless he starts hurting himself or others. Right now, he hasn’t hurt anyone. So, I’ll stop working and help him out. We’ll live off my money for awhile. He’ll forgive me that breach in time.”

Sighing, Natasha nodded, “whatever you think is best, Steve.”

“I can hire a live in nurse if I need to, but I won’t send Bucky away, and with this move to the clinic, the entire family gets round the clock attention if we need it. I don’t want to uproot Ava from school if I don’t have to, even if it is tempting to take her out of the one she’s in now.” Steve hung his head, tired, so very tired. It was tempting to just let Riley and Sharon take care of things fully. Slowly, Steve said, “I’ll ask him again, Natasha . . .”

“Okay,” Natasha decided not to push the issue anymore. “We have a cot in the back if you want some uninterrupted sleep?”

“I should get back to the clinic and relieve Clint so he can come back . . .” Steve said, but that did sound nice: uninterrupted sleep. No nightmares, no monitors going off, not arguments or alarm clocks.

“Oh, yeah, save Clint from playing with those damn dogs he can’t stop yapping about. I swear, that’s all he talks about,” Natasha teased, “seriously, Steve. Take a few hours. Rest.”

“Tell you what, you and Clint can move into the house and help with the stress and he can have full time access to our pool and dogs,” Steve teased right back. He stood, though, and sidled towards the back room, giving into temptation slowly.

“I’ll make sure to wake you in a few hours,” Natasha called after him.

“Remember when you thought I was the worst thing for Bucky?” Steve asked, softly, smiling. “Thanks.” He headed into the storeroom and sank onto the cot.

“Even I can be wrong,” Natasha said as she picked up Steve’s unfinished tea and headed back towards the counter to help a customer.

Before drifting to sleep, Steve pulled out his phone and called Bucky’s number.

“Hey,” Bucky answered after two rings.

“Hey, lover,” Steve responded, sounding as exhausted as he felt. “I’m gonna get a nap on Natasha’s cot, okay? How’s things at the clinic?”

“Clint, Ava, and Daniel are in the living room. Kevin, TJ, and I are watching a movie in the bedroom,” Bucky reported, “how’d the meeting go?”

“He offered his well wishes for you guys and offered to move me down the block instead of to Manhattan. I told him no since I won’t be producing more art until all this is settled. The meeting’s over now and I’m feeling a bit tired. Haven’t slept well. Nat insisted I nap before leaving, as long as things are okay there?” Steve yawned and failed to hide it.

“Things are fine, you sleep, Steve,” Bucky insisted.

“Tell Kevin and TJ where I am, baby?” Steve asked, knowing the boys would probably get frantic later in the day if they didn’t know Steve called.

“Dad’s at the shop, taking a nap,” Bucky’s muffled voice could be heard through the speaker.

Keivn’s “okay, Papa, tell him to sleep well,” came over as well, making Steve smile.

“Kevin says sleep well. I love you,” Bucky said.

“I love you with my whole heart, Bucky,” Steve insisted.

“Ya big sap, get some rest, ‘kay?” Bucky laughed softly.

“Yup, will do. See ya later, Bucky.” Steve hung up the phone, still smiling, as he lay that and his wallet and house keys on a nearby box of books. He drifted off quickly.

**************

Nearly five hours later, Steve woke to a poking on his chest, “think he’s still alive, Wanda?” Pietro’s voice called out.

Steve cracked one eye open and softly growled, “is your name Natasha?”

“Not last I checked, old man,” Pietro snickered, “but she did send me back here to wake you up.”

Sighing, accepting the surrogacy, Steve nodded and sat up. “Okay, I’m up. And thanks.” He stretched and collected his personal effects, pocking them as he stood.

“Should miss evening traffic,” Pietro nodded, giving Steve a smile.

Nodding, offering a smile to the young man, Steve made the cot up neatly then left the store room. “Thanks, Natasha. I’ll just call Scott for a ride.”

“I can give you a ride, Steve,” Natasha offered, “the twins are closing up, I was just waiting until I thought you got enough sleep.”

Chuckling, Steve said, “I feel like I could sleep for a week, but this helped. Thanks.”

Natasha nodded, “c’mon, Rogers, let’s get you to your family,” she grabbed her phone and purse from the counter and headed towards the door, “thanks, Wanda, Pietro. See you two tomorrow.”

“See ya! Tell Buckster to feel better!” Pietro called after them.

“That I can do, Pietro,” Steve assured him. He smiled and followed Natasha from the store.

Natasha unlocked her car and slipped behind the wheel, putting her purse in the backseat. After Steve had slid into the passenger seat, Natasha started the car and pulled out of the bookstore parking lot. “Clint's thinking about getting another dog,” she started, trying to get Steve's mind off his troubles at home for a little while longer.

“So, he’s finally ready?” Steve asked softly. “I know he was really upset when Lucky then Pizza Dog died.”

“Yeah,” Natasha nodded with a small frown, “he told me a few days ago that he wants to check out a few shelters . . . see if there any dogs that he _connects_ with.” She sighed, shrugging softly, “I wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready after Pizza Dog passed . . . but, we’ll see.”

Steve nodded. “Knowing Clint, if you let him choose, he’ll come home with three dogs, a cat, and a couple of ferrets.”

Snorting softly, a small smile on her face, Natasha nodded, “you’re probably right.”

Looking out the window, Steve seemed not to see the landscape passing by in a blur of vehicles and city walks. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not sure how to help Ava, Natasha. She’s growing up and neither Bucky or I are a female. How do we relate to her? Convince her that what we say and the rules we set are for her safety?”

Natasha sighed, “has she had any other outbursts since she got back from Becca’s?”

“No, but then again, she came right from Becca’s to the clinic and found out about Bucky and Kevin and TJ’s tumor.” Steve looked down at his large hands, feeling useless and worried and frightened.

“If you want, I can try to talk with her?” Natasha offered, “or maybe she can spend more time with Becca? She’s a teenager and she is going to continue to push the limits of your guy’s rules. Honestly, all you two can do is continue to enforce them, though try not to get too harsh, and keep showing her you two love her and want the best for her. She has to be feeling a lot of very confusing and hard emotions right now. With the whole thing with Freddy, Bucky, TJ, and Kevin being so sick, and all the other shit that comes with being a teenaged girl.”

“I think Ava’s especially hurt. She thought Freddy was her boyfriend, but he called her a cock tease when all she would do was kiss, from what I gather.” Steve sighed and looked at his friend.

“That would hurt anyone,” Natasha nodded, “have you talked with her about it?”

“Didn’t get the chance because we found out about Bucky and the boys,” Steve again ran one hand over his neck, sighing.

“I know it might seem irrational to us . . . but she might be feeling very looked-over right now. I imagine all your attention is mainly focused on Bucky and the boys,” Natasha suggested.

“I’ve been trying to include her, Natasha. I’ve deliberately talked to her and offered cuddles and things when I feel so torn among the four of them. I know it’s not the limit of what she’s used to, but . . . if it’s not one thing, it’s another. What can I do to let her know we love her and she’s definitely not being shunted away?” Steve sounded worried. He loved Ava and didn’t want her hurt.

“I don’t know if there’s one thing you can do . . . just try to keep reassuring her? Try to spend as much time with her as possible? I know it’s not much help . . .” Natasha sighed and pulled into a parking space, next to Clint’s car, in the garage exclusive to the clinic.

“Coming in, Natasha?” Steve offered softly, reaching for the door handle while snapping his seat belt open one-handed.

“Sure, I’ll visit for a few,” Natasha nodded, turning off her car and moving to open her door.

Freezing, Steve said, “Nat? When I told Bucky I was thinking on getting my license, he got upset.”

Sitting back, Natasha looked at her friend, “Steve, you have to see this from his point of view. For _years_ , he’s been the one at home with the kids, _driving_ them from one thing to another. It’d be incredibly frustrating and scary to suddenly have that taken away. I’m not saying that you’re going to ban him from driving or anything, but that may be what _he’s_ thinking. That you believe he may not be capable of driving anymore.”

“I want to help him because he’s always tired, not take away his daily habits, Nat.” Steve started rubbing his fingers over his slacks, looking out the window, voice soft and worried. “For years, I’ve been stuck unless someone else drives me or I call an Uber or something. I’ve let that go because . . . well . . . it just seems Bucky needs some relief, is all.” He hung his head and opened the door.

Natasha followed the blond out of the car and up to the front door, “you tell him that you want your license not just to help him out . . . but for _you_? He may be thinking that you’re only considering it because he’s sick?”

Steve sighed and hesitated. “Thanks,” he softly responded and led them through the halls to the apartment, unlocking the door. Steve closed his eyes, breathed slow and deep then stepped into his temporary home. He allowed Natasha to pass him then secured the door. “Welcome to our world,” he said so softly only the red-haired woman could hear him. Louder he said, “I’m back, guys.”

Bucky came out from the kitchen a few moments later, “hey, Steve. Natasha. How was your nap?”

“Fine, and my meeting went well, thanks, Buck,” Steve answered. “Mr. Fisk has stopped pressing me to move. And, after I’m done that painting, I’ll have as much time as you want me to have, if you need me for anything . . . you know, painting the rooms or something . . . building your spa?”

“What spa?” Bucky tilted his head. 

“Oh, sorry, was that supposed to be a secret surprise?” Steve winced, though he knew it hadn’t been. “I was thinking on adding a spa off the art room or something, remember? I know I mentioned it only the once in passing . . .”

“Oh . . . that sounds nice,” Bucky nodded, “Ava and Clint are making . . . something - - for dinner . . .” the brunet turned to look over his shoulder.

“Spaghetti,” Ava called out, a hint of frustration in her tone.

Steve nodded and looked at Natasha then back at Bucky. “Natasha said she wanted to hang out a while, Bucky. You don’t mind?” He stepped over to his husband and reached for him, pulling Bucky to him by the hips. “I love you,” he whispered softly then kissed Bucky’s lips briefly.

Humming softly, Bucky smiled, “I love you, too, Stevie,” he looked back at the kitchen and then at his husband again, “I’m just gonna be in the living room . . . think Ava might be mad or somethin’.”

“I can handle the living room,” Steve agreed, kissing again. He didn’t address Ava’s frustration right away, letting her vent to Clint in the kitchen instead.

Not saying anything, Bucky kissed his husband back, his hand trailing down Steve’s back.

Letting out a soft almost purring sound, Steve nuzzled at his husband’s neck. “How’s Kevin, baby? TJ?” he asked softly.

“They’re good, still in the bedroom. TJ started feeling a little nauseous,” Bucky reported. 

“Anything from Kevin or TJ over the monitors?” Steve called to Ava, throwing Bucky a smile before placing a hand to his hip once more.

“Nah, just sounds of someone sleeping?” Ava answered, “a few yipping noises from the dog . . .”

Stiffening, Steve asked, “when? How long ago, Ava?” He let go of Bucky and headed down the hall.

“I don’t know, ten minutes, maybe?” she stated.

Bucky followed Steve, knowing that something was wrong.

Steve could be heard running down the hall. He bolted into the room and Ava and Clint could clearly hear him say, “Oh, Kevin, sweetie!” Steve began taking care of his son while he remained in his postictal state, lying limply next to the sleeping TJ.

Bucky’s voice came over next, “I’m . . . sorry - -”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Bucky,” Steve reassured. “No one’s really familiar with Avenger’s alert yet. How were you guys to know Kevin was having another seizure?” He quickly checked on TJ, shaking the sleeping boy’s shoulder, hoping the brunet hadn’t had a seizure, too. The smell of Kevin’s mess began wafting to them and Steve gathered the blond into his arms.

Blinking awake, TJ looked confused for a moment before he recognized Steve, with Kevin in his arms, “what’s wrong with Kevin?”

“A seizure, Baby. He’ll be okay,” Steve murmured.

Sighing, Bucky said, “I’ll go start the bath . . .”

Natasha frowned, having heard everything over the monitor as she entered the kitchen. She threw a concerned glance to her husband.

Clint shook his head, “no clue that was his alert. Sorry,” he murmured, checking the sauce. “Think they need help?”

The red-haired woman said, “Steve would’ve asked over the monitor if he did.”

Bucky ran a bath, waiting for his husband to bring in their son. He felt awful for not realizing that Kevin had been having a seizure.

Steve carried the small eleven year old into the bathroom, already stripped down. He offered his husband a relieved sigh and slid Kevin into the water, kneeling by the tub to support the small pre-teen. Steve grabbed a cloth and began bathing Kevin. “TJ? Come in here, baby, please?” he called.

Only a few moments passed before TJ walked into the bathroom, “yes?”

“I’ll get him some fresh clothes . . . anything else?” Bucky offered, straightening.

“Good idea, Bucky. Thanks. Can you check on Ava after? She might be feeling left out, according to Nat, since Kevin and TJ’re getting so much attention.” Steve smiled at TJ. “How you feeling? I heard your stomach was upset?”

Nodding, TJ leaned against the doorjamb, “yeah . . . a little nauseous.” He looked at Kevin in the tub with worried pale eyes.

Steve gestured to the toilet. “You can join him or sit here? I want to keep an eye on you. Floor’s free, too, pull up a bath mat?”

TJ nodded and moved to sit on the closed toilet.

“I think Ava’s annoyed with me right now,” Bucky frowned, flushing slightly.

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Would you prefer to bathe Kevin and sit with him and TJ?”

“Yeah . . .” Bucky agreed softly, “want me to still grab the clothes or . . .”

“Please, baby? I’ll just hold him a bit, he’s still a bit gone.” Steve let the boy lean into his chest, exhausted, drained of energy.

Nodding, Bucky turned and left the bathroom. He returned just over a minute later with some clothes and he set them on the counter for when he needed them.

Steve backed up a bit and said, “come on down here and help him, Buck?”

Bucky took Steve’s spot, supporting the small boy in the tub.

Steve rose to his feet, washed and dried his hands, then walked over to pet TJ’s curls, smiling softly. “Bruce said the sickness is part of the cure, remember?” Avenger shuffled from foot to foot and let out a soft, almost whispery sounding, bark.

“Yeah . . . still sucks though,” TJ murmured softly, looking up at Steve.

Nodding, Steve stroked again. “I know. I hate being sick, too.”

Bucky looked over at the dog and then back to Kevin, who seemed to be getting a bit more alert, though he still leaned heavily. The brunet began to awkwardly, having to shift slightly so that Kevin leaned against his body, clean the messy boy, murmuring softly in Kevin’s ear.

Steve left, intent on stripping and making TJ’s bed before the boy’s bath had finished.

Finally, the small group had finished their individual tasks and Steve arrived to transport the boy for his one-armed husband. “Got ‘em, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, letting Steve take Kevin. After they left, the brunet turned back to the tub to drain the water and rinse it down.

Kevin opened his eyes and offered a weak smile to Bucky then his father. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’m still fine,” he said softly, sounding exhausted. He looked for and found TJ, relaxing a bit. “Hey, Teej.”

Looking over his shoulder from where he knelt by the tub, Bucky nodded, smiling softly, “I know you are, Tiger.”

“Heya, Kevin,” TJ smiled weakly and then stood up slowly so he could follow them out.

“And you’re okay, too, My Bucky,” Kevin murmured and let his eyes close, breathing steady and slow.

Releasing a breath, Bucky turned back to the tub to continue cleaning it. His long hair hid his face as he wiped down the bathtub. Steve laid the boy on the bed then turned to help the slightly older boy in as well. TJ settled in the bed next to Kevin, watching the smaller boy closely.

Kevin leaned back on the bed and asked, “when I go to school, what if I have one of those seizures?” His voice held more exhaustion than interest.

With a nod, drying off Kevin, Steve answered, “That’s what Avenger’s for. To get you to a safe place to have your seizure.

No answer came from the boy.

Bucky finished with the tub and instead of going into Kevin’s room, the brunet sighed and walked down to the living room.

Steve settled the boy in his bed and sighed, running his hand over his neck. He looked at the baby monitor and called out, “Ava? Is your uncle there? I need his help still.”

“Uncle Bucky! Steve needs your help!” Ava shouted to her uncle, not even knowing if Bucky was in hearing distance or not.

A few moments later, Bucky appeared at the doorway of Kevin’s room, “whatcha need, Steve? I cleaned the tub?”

“Were you still interested in sitting with them, Bucky?” Steve asked, sounding a bit worried and very tired already. “Or did you prefer to go watch TV?”

“I wasn’t watching TV,” Bucky said, frowning slightly as he stepped into the room, “I can watch Kevin and TJ.”

“You sure?” Steve offered a small smile, eyes hopeful and tired. “It’d be a help while I get things in order again.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Bucky nodded and sank on the edge of the bed on the blond boy’s side; Kevin didn’t quite reach the end, being short for his age. “Go do . . . whatever.”

Freezing, as if Bucky had accused him of slacking off or something, Steve turned his head and said, low and clear, “I was going to see if Ava needed help. I don’t want her feeling left out, and you told me you can take care of Kevin.”

Blinking, Bucky’s head snapped up to look at his husband, the tone having caught him off guard, “yeah . . . uh - - you said that . . . sorry - - I didn’t mean . . .”

“You’re just as scared and tired and overwhelmed as I am, right?” Steve offered a small smile to his husband.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed and settled on the bed, hand laying gently near Kevin’s foot.

Steve merely nodded and headed out the door, running his hands over his slacks once more, ignoring the damp stains. True to his word, he headed to the kitchen to check on Ava. “Princess? How’s it going in here?"

“Fine,” Ava answered, though her voice sounded tense, frustrated, “dinner’s almost ready. Daniel already set the table.”

Nodding, Steve sighed. “Thanks for cooking dinner, princess. It’s a big help. You’ve been so patient through all this.” He walked over and hugged her gently, as if afraid to break or to touch her.

“It’s no problem, Clint and Daniel helped, too,” she never added her uncle, who’d usually have helped prepare dinner.

“Well, you’re an amazing young woman, Ava, and I’m proud that you’re mine.” Steve backed off, looking almost like he was lost somehow. He walked out of the kitchen and headed back down the short hall, glancing into the bedroom then heading to the bathroom. Steve sank to the floor by the tub, knowing Bucky had already cleaned up the mess; he couldn’t help it, needing to _do_ something. He began scrubbing the tub.

“I haven’t been patient,” Ava’s voice sounded from behind Steve; she didn’t sound apologetic, though . . . almost like she was stating a fact.

Steve looked up, blue eyes miserable for a moment before he pushed his emotions away and the look evened out. “It’s not easy, but things will get better, princess. Bruce is working on figuring this out, what we can do for them.”

“But, what if they _don’t_? What if his memory gets _worse_?” Ava sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

Blinking, shaking himself, Steve murmured, “then it gets worse and we keep reminding him and helping him.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “Bruce said his brain might never be back to full memory capabilities, but he shouldn’t get _worse_ , princess. He’ll still need lists and stuff, but mostly, Bucky remembers.”

“I don’t . . . Steve . . . I’m not you or Kevin . . . I get so _frustrated_ . . . having to remind him all the time! I _can’t_ do it . . . I’m not you, Steve . . . I’m trying but - - I snap at him . . .” Ava shook her head, looking overwhelmed.

Hearing the distress in the girl’s tones, Steve stopped what he was doing and stood up, walking to her. He pulled her into a fierce hug and whispered, “we all get upset, princess. I do, too. I get angry and scared and annoyed. But Bucky is trying so hard and he hates this as much, if not more, than we do.” Steve shook his head and stepped back, holding Ava’s shoulders, “It’s hard and very annoying, but we have to help him. He’d do the same for either of us.”

“But,” Ava’s voice cracked and her eyes welled with tears, “what if he _does_ get worse, Steve?” 

Shaking his head, Steve dropped his hands and began rubbing them over his slacks in an increased tempo. “I don’t know,” he whispered almost too low to be heard.

Ava sighed, head hanging down, “I don’t know if I can do it forever, Steve . . .”

“No one’s asking for forever, princess. Just occasionally, mixed in with showing him how much you love him.” Steve didn’t meet her eyes.

“What about _you_?” Ava asked softly, “if he does get worse . . . what are _you_ going to do?”

“I’m gonna remind him as often as I can that I love him and I’ll take care of him,” Steve looked at his reddened hands.

“It’s not fair,” Ava swallowed thickly, “why us? Why does this keep happening to _our_ family?”

“Because God thinks we’re strong enough to handle it in the end?” Steve asked, eyes troubled and looking anywhere but at the girl.

“So, God took away Uncle Bucky’s memories? God makes Kevin have seizures every day . . . or kill TJ’s family and give him a tumor as what? A test? Because _we’re strong enough_? Well, people can only be strong for so long, Steve. We’re _tired_ ,” Ava’s voice took on a bitter tone.

He didn’t answer her, hanging his head and curling his hands into frustrated fists against his legs. Slowly, Steve reached out for the scrubbing supplies and picked them up, standing. He looked at Ava as he passed. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to help anyone. I’m just a guy who can paint a pretty picture.” He actually sounded defeated as he left the bathroom.

Bucky stood out in the hallway, just outside TJ’s room, with the bathroom door open; it was likely he’d heard a lot of what Ava had said, but Steve’s voice hadn’t quite been loud enough to decipher.

Steve hesitated as he passed Bucky, glanced at him, and said softly, “I love you, Bucky, so much it hurts sometimes. We _will_ get through this.”

“She . . . she has a point, Steve . . .” Bucky said softly, eyes pained and miserable, “what if I do get worse? I don’t expect you to do this the rest of your life.”

“Then, like I told her, I’ll remind you as often as you need, baby. I love you.” Steve looked at the supplies in his hands. “Any headaches, Bucky?”

Sighing, head hanging, Bucky answered, “no . . . I’m fine. I think I heard Daniel call for dinner . . . if it’s okay with you . . . I’m gonna stay in with Kevin and TJ? Not very hungry.”

Nodding, Steve said, “I’ll send in something small then.” He headed down the steps, head hanging, shoulders slumped. At the hall closet, Steve began putting away the supplies, lining them up neatly on their individual racks or shelves. He kept finding yet another thing out of place in the closet so remained there rearranging the small space, losing himself in the chore.

Almost an hour later, Ava, who must’ve passed Steve to get to the kitchen, came over and tapped the blond’s shoulder, “Clint, Natasha, and Daniel left. I’m gonna go to bed. There’s a plate for you in the fridge.”

Nodding, Steve said, “okay, princess. Have a good sleep.” His eyes remained searching, searching to make sure the tiny supply closet was finally organized properly, clean.

Sighing, Ava shook her head and slid past Steve, her bedroom door opened and closed with a soft click.

“Steve?” Bucky called softly; he walked from TJ’s room towards his husband.

“Yes, sir?” Steve answered automatically, straightening. He looked out of the closet. He looked tired and upset and frustrated.

Frowning, Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, “um . . . want me to heat you up something? You didn’t eat, did you?”

“Eat?” Steve looked towards the kitchen then back at Bucky. “No, wasn’t really hungry. Is that okay?”

“Yeah . . . that’s fine, Steve. Don’t hafta eat if you don’t wanna. Just normally you have a big appetite,” Bucky looked wary, pale eyes very worried.

Nodding, Steve sighed and finally shut the closet door. He moved towards the kitchen. “You look like you wanna fall down. Maybe you should get some sleep?” Steve offered a small, near-smile of hope.

“You gonna come up with me?” Bucky asked softly, fingers rubbing at his left stump.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’m pretty beat, too.” Steve immediately turned for the master bedroom.

Bucky frowned, but he didn’t say anything; he followed Steve up the stairs and to their room. Once inside, the brunet slipped out of his sweats and t-shirt, putting the dirty clothes in the hamper in the master bathroom.

Steve began undressing as well, neatly folding his clothes and placing them in the hamper.

“Y - - you okay, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Wish I knew how to help everyone, Buck,” Steve answered honestly on a sigh. “I hate seeing any of you suffer and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Even the great Steve Rogers can’t do everything,” Bucky smiled softly, “and you’re doing a lot, Steve.”

Turning, Steve hesitated then slid his arms around his husband and hugged him close, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. “I _love_ you and I’m terrified. I don’t want to be negative but I can’t help it sometimes, baby.”

“Negative?” Bucky looked at Steve, “when are _you_ negative?”

“Inside,” Steve’s voice dropped to a shamed whisper.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “well, I think everyone, even Kevin, have negative thoughts sometimes, Steve. You can’t help it. We’re in a shit situation right now . . . I think you’re allowed a negative thought or two.”

Nodding, not lifting his face for a long time, Steve finally sighed and drew back. “I’ll try better, Bucky. I love you and . . . you’re always in such pain. I wish I could give you some of my strength.”

Smiling softly, Bucky leaned up and kissed his husband, “I love you, Steve Rogers. As long as I remember that . . . I know I’ll be able to find myself again. Me loving you . . . it’s hardwired.”

Smiling softly, calming at the light, yet heartfelt, banter, Steve nodded. “We’ll make it together, baby.”

“‘Till the end of the line, punk,” Bucky kissed his husband again.

Encircling his husband in strong arms once more, Steve nodded. “To the end of the line, jerk.” Steve captured Bucky’s mouth in a deep kiss of love and longing.

**************

A few days passed, the family falling into a shaky rhythm, with Bucky’s lists and TJ’s new weakness, and Kevin’s unpredictable seizures and Steve’s palpitations, no one seemed all that active or energetic. Steve went to their house every morning for the limited three hours to work on the painting, seeming more and more frustrated as time passed and he wasn’t satisfied with the ongoing results. Ava took the brunt of the housework with Bucky taking care of the boys, though Steve made efforts to try to help as his limited energy allowed. Things only promised to be more hectic once school started.

Ava walked down the hall; when she reached the living room, papers in her hand, she looked around and spotted Steve sitting on the couch, “hey, Steve, where's Uncle Bucky?”

“Resting, princess,” Steve said with a soft, worried frown. He suspected Bucky felt exhaustion from his own mental fatigue along with caring for the two sick boys. Looking up at the teenager, Steve offered a smile, turning the television off; he hadn’t really be watching it. “Whatcha need?”

Kevin, lying on the rug on his stomach, looked up from the coloring book he was working in, using coloring pencils rather than crayons. Avenger lay beside him, head over Kevin’s lower back, and the pair looked quite comfortable. Kevin hadn’t had a seizure for two days and that was a hopeful sign.

TJ wasn’t out in the living room; the twelve year old had been up most the night before throwing up so was sleeping in his room.

Ava approached her adoptive father, she held out the papers for him to look at, “Mr. Fisk offered me a job, Steve. I was hoping you could sign the papers so I could work.” She looked hopeful as she watched the large blond.

Steve took the papers and started looking through them. “Have you asked your uncle, princess? He’s the one who makes the significant decisions about you, Ava.” He smiled up at her. “And a job as a courier is a pretty significant decision.”

“I talked to him,” Ava nodded, “I guess Mr. Fisk called yesterday. We talked about it and he agreed to let me work but only local jobs, no travel or anything. But,” she sighed and ran her fingers through her curly brown hair, “he forgot to sign the papers . . . I didn't want to bother him if he was resting . . . he’s so tired all the time.”

“Bucky forgot to sign?” Steve frowned and looked over the papers. He hated making his husband feel worse for his memory problems by pointing out he’d forgotten something so important. Nodding, slowly, Steve looked at Ava. “So, you want me to sign for you to work local messenger jobs?”

“Yes, please? I promise that it won't interfere with school once it starts, Mr. Fisk said it would mostly be on the weekends,” Ava smiled softly, a hopeful almost excited glint in her eyes.

Steve nodded. Fisk was a bit creepy, in a cold, calculating way, but he’d been reasonable every time Steve had met with him. And if Bucky saw no harm with Ava getting a weekend job, Steve wouldn’t argue. He took the pen she held and leaned on the coffee table to sign the papers. “If it begins to interfere with your homework, you’ll be required to quit, Ava. School comes first.” He looked up and held the papers in one hand, just out of reach unless she lunged for them. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, I understand,” Ava nodded, giving Steve a bright, relieved smile, “thank you, Steve!”

Steve smiled and nodded. He handed her the papers. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job, Ava. You’ve always been a good, honest worker.”

Ava took the papers and for just a moment her eyes flickered with a look akin to guilt; however, as quick as the expression had come, it vanished as she smiled brighter. “Thanks, Steve,” she gave the blond a quick hug before vanishing back to her room.

Steve sighed and stood, stretching. “Kevin, hungry? I’m thinking on calling Papa in to get something to eat.”

“I’ll get him,” Kevin said and slipped out from under Avenger, hurrying from the living room with the dog right behind. He stopped before the master bedroom then knocked on the door.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s voice called out.

“It’s me, Papa,” Kevin said through the door. “Dad wants to feed you.”

There were a few sounds of movement in the bedroom before the door opened and Bucky looked down at his son. “Morning, Tiger, how’re you feeling?” the brunet stepped out of the room, heading towards the kitchen.

“I feel good, My Bucky,” he smiled back up at his adoptive father. “I haven’t had a seizure for two days.” Kevin followed and grabbed Bucky’s right hand, walking with him. “But TJ was sick all night. He’s sleeping now.”

“That’s real good, Kevin,” Bucky smiled, allowing himself to be lead by the small boy. “And we’ll let him sleep, then. We can make something for him when he wakes up.”

“Did you rest, Papa? Dad said you were tired,” Kevin stopped at the entry to the living area and hopped, as if over an invisible line. Kevin turned and smiled at Bucky again, grey eyes dancing with laughter and life.

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded, “yeah, Tiger. I got some sleep. Feeling a bit better now.”

Nodding, Kevin tugged Bucky into the kitchen, where Steve already had the coffee brewing and was working on making omelettes. The boy got out juice glasses and a coffee mug and began setting the kitchen island, where the family tended to eat their first meal of the day. He filled juice glasses and put the coffee mug and the vanilla by Bucky’s setting.

“Thanks, Kevin,” Bucky said, standing near the edge of the kitchen; he looked over at his husband, “smells good, Steve.”

Nodding, Steve threw a smile at Bucky. “Take a seat, baby. It’ll be ready in a moment.” Steve plated the first omelette and began working on another as Kevin grabbed the plate carefully and put it at Bucky’s spot. He put the warming lid over the plate it keep it hot.

Bucky sat at his place but didn’t make any moves to eat; they always waited until everyone was at the table to start. The brunet fiddled with the fork by his plate, once again, feeling useless and in the way. He used to help Steve with breakfast . . . now, he couldn’t even do that he was so tired.

Kevin stepped up and leaned into Bucky. “Papa? I love you so much,” he said and hugged the man.

Smiling, Bucky wrapped his arm around Kevin’s small shoulders and said, “I love you, too, Kevin.”

Steve glanced over and smiled. He plated the second omelette and called, “Kevin, another plate.” The boy went to fetch it and set it up on the next place while Steve reached for more eggs but accidentally slammed into them, knocking them into the sink. Frowning, looking disappointed, he called, “Buck? Can you get me some more eggs from the fridge?”

Standing up, happy to help his husband, Bucky walked over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out some more eggs. He set them by Steve, “here ya go.”

Steve turned and stole a kiss, “thanks, baby.” He began making the third omelette. “Anyone know if Ava’s coming to eat?” he asked.

Kevin shook his head. “She didn’t say anything about breakfast when she went to her room,” he answered.

“I can see if she wants to come in?” Bucky offered.

“Can you, Buck? That’d be great. Then I know if I need to make more.” Steve flashed his husband a grateful smile.

Nodding, Bucky left, his footsteps could be heard in the hall.

As soon as Bucky was out of sight, Steve brought his hand down to give his son pat on the head, Kevin grinning back. Steve went back to cooking while Kevin cleaned up the eggs that Steve had broken.

Bucky came back down; he gave Steve a shrug, “she was on the phone? I think with Daniel.”

Nodding, Steve said, “probably excited about school and stuff. It’s less than a week away.”

“Probably,” Bucky agreed, “we still need to take the kids shopping . . . we haven’t done that yet.”

Kevin smiled at his fathers and dried his hands off then grabbed the third plate from Steve to put at his setting. Steve put the pan on a cold burner, turned off the stove, and moved to sit on his stool. “Not yet,” Steve agreed with Bucky. “I was about to mention it. Kevin’s going to need sneakers and stuff. And Ava needs more . . . girl supplies. And TJ’s growing like a weed. I swear, he’ll be six foot like you when he’s sixteen!”

“Oh,” Bucky nodded, “okay . . . uh - - should we go out today? But, TJ’s not feeling good today . . . don’t know if he’ll be up to going out?”

“We can ask him, and if not out then at least he can pick out things he likes from the internet and we can get them for him?” Steve offered.

“I like getting new clothes and shoes,” Kevin said happily.

Steve touched Bucky’s hand. “Eat, baby. We’re going to be doing a lot of walking. You’ll need the energy.” He offered a smile.

Bucky nodded and immediately took another small bite.

Steve beamed and rose to his feet. He walked out to the hall and called, “Ava! Come in here. After breakfast we’re going school shopping!” He moved back to the kitchen and ate some more omelette, standing up, ready to cook some for Ava, too.

“Okay, coming - - bye, Daniel, talk to you later,” Ava’s voice came to those at the kitchen island as she walked down the hall.

Kevin smiled at her and took a bite of his food. After swallowing, he said, “I’m to get new shoes.” He looked happier than most little kids at the prospect.

“Cool,” Ava nodded, giving the boy a smile and then smiled at her uncle, her eyes apprehensive, “morning, Uncle Bucky.”

Seeing the look, Bucky sighed and gave his niece a small smile, “mornin’, Squirt.”

Steve put an omelette in front of Ava then moved to sit and finish his own breakfast. “Do you have anything you desperately need for school, princess?” he asked.

“Pants, mine are getting kinda short and some - - uh . . . other things,” Ava flushed slightly, taking a bite of her breakfast.

“Girl things?” Kevin asked, smiling. “Dad said you needed girl supplies.”

Flushing brighter, Ava nodded, “uh . . . yeah. Girl things.”

Nodding, Kevin said, “when I’m older, will I need special boy things or do only girls need special things?” He didn’t sound catty or jealous, just curious.

Steve laughed, “girls need special things because they want to always look good and feel fresh. Boys need stuff to make them stink less.”

“Hey!” Kevin laughed back. “Boys don’t stink!”

Nodding as he chuckled, Steve said, “trust me, at puberty you will need stuff to keep your feet from stinking - - and your armpits. You’ll need special clothes to play sports, if you wish to start. Yeah, you’ll need boy stuff like Ava needs girl stuff.”

Kevin looked at his cousin, “sounds annoying needing special stuff. Sorry you have to use it, Ava.”

Laughing, Ava swallowed the bite she’d taken, “thanks, Kevin. It can be annoying.”

Steve dropped a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head as he passed, with his dish, to the sink. “Need any more cream, Bucky? I know you got two jars, but not sure how quickly you can go through them with that arm acting up so bad recently.”

Bucky blinked, his brows furrowed, after a moment he said, “I’m fine, still haven’t opened the second jar.”

Nodding, Steve grinned at him. “Well, when everyone’s ready, we can get started.” He headed down the hall and eased open TJ’s door, checking on the boy. “TJ?” he called softly. “How ya feelin’, baby?”

From where he’d been curled up on the bed, TJ’s eyes blinked open and he said, “a little better.”

“You up to some juice and toast? We’re going school shopping if you want to come. You need new clothes just as much as the others.” Steve smiled at the boy.

“Not going to school,” TJ murmured, slowly sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

Steve walked in. “Not yet, but you’re growing out of your clothes, anyway, whether you’re going to be internet schooling or in the building.”

“I . . . think I can have some toast? I - - I’m a little hungry?” TJ said, “and . . . maybe if I can keep that down, I can go with you guys?” TJ didn’t like the idea of staying in the apartment all by himself while the others were out.

Nodding, Steve stroked the boy’s curls gently. “If you don’t feel up to it after trying toast, we can give you the laptop and you can order us around over the skype.” He grinned. “We’ll even commandeer Riley to come play games. You know he feels he never has enough time to sit and relax.”

“Okay,” TJ agreed, pushing into Steve’s hand, “but, let’s try the toast first.”

Nodding, Steve slipped his arms around TJ and hugged him close, dropping a kiss on his head. “We love you, TJ. I love you. You know that, right, baby?”

“I . . . I know,” TJ nodded and then said, “but . . . I made you guys move from your house . . . and Bucky looks so tired all the time . . .”

“Ah,” Steve nodded, sinking onto the bed. “Well, Bruce made us move, not you. He wants to make sure there’s no poison from the new construction making all of us sicker: my heart, Bucky’s traumatic flashbacks, and both you with seizures. So, _you_ didn’t make us move. We would have even if you weren’t here or sick. And Bucky looks tired because he’s taking care of two active, but sick, boys and himself. He worries about his own memory limits and his flashbacks, and he’s terrified I’ll have a heart attack. He worries over Ava, too. It’s something we all do for each other. That’s why we’re getting him out of the house to shop today, so Bucky can relax and enjoy himself. Did you know, Bucky used to be a clothes horse like Kevin? And he loved dancing.” Steve smiled softly at the memories of his high school best friend. “I should look into learning to slow dance so I can dance with him.”

“Momma and Dad use to dance sometimes . . . and Nana loved to dance and sing,” TJ reported with a sigh, “sometimes . . . I wish they were still here?”

“Yeah, I miss my Momma, too. She died when I was eighteen.” He shook his head. “I hate that we lost people we love.” He hugged TJ close again.

“Steve?” TJ said softly, sounding worried.

“Yeah baby?” Steve looked down at TJ.

“You think God’s punishing me for makin’ my family go out that night?” TJ asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Looking thoughtful, Steve asked, “you _made_ them go out that night, TJ?”

Nodding, TJ explained, “we were gonna go to the farmhouse the next morning. But . . . I acted up and was grounded. They decided to leave that night instead of the morning.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded slowly. “So, TJ, you didn’t _make_ them leave. They left because they wanted to beat traffic. Sounds like the person being made to do something was _you_ , being made to stay home.” He stroked TJ’s hair. “No, God’s not punishing you. He’s making sure you know you're strong enough for whatever you need to do when you grow up. He took your family that night because he needed four angels and they were the perfect ones. I bet they’re running around helping a lot of people . . . and I bet Doug’s your personal guardian angel, TJ. God likes to have children angels for children.”

“But . . . I miss them?” TJ looked up at Steve again.

Nodding, Steve met TJ’s eyes. “Of course you do. And you’ll miss them until you join them in Heaven someday. But every day you keep going and try to be good and caring you make them proud. I know it hurts not to have them here, but you can still talk to them. And if you listen patiently, you’ll hear them answer. Momma answers me sometimes. It’s not with her voice, but in my heart I can feel what she says.” He stroked TJ’s face softly, his hair.

“You think . . . after I feel better again, that I’ll be able to play piano again? Nana liked it when I played,” TJ asked after a few moments.

“TJ, why don’t we look at pianos today and see if we can have one moved into Kevin’s room here? It’s not like he uses it. Then, while you’re trying to get better, you can play?” Steve offered, grasping at the hope that it would help TJ through the illness.

Blinking, looking shocked, TJ asked, “today? You . . . mean I might be able to have one here?”

Cupping the boy’s face, Steve met his eyes and nodded. “I mean, TJ, I’m going to buy you a piano and have them put it in here for you. Then when we all go back home, we’ll move that in there. It’ll be yours to keep, even when you grow up and move out. You can take it with you. How’s that sound, baby?”

“I . . . I’d like that? Thank you, Steve,” TJ smiled softly.

Steve dropped a kiss to TJ’s head and hugged the boy. He stood and carefully helped TJ to his feet, supporting him while he regained his balance. “Let’s go try toast, okay?” Steve offered, smiling, pleased he’d found something to cheer up TJ.

“Toast,” TJ nodded.


	10. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Seizures, Cancer, Traumatic Brain Injury, Memory Issues, Anxiety, Panic Attack**

Steve stayed by the sink to rinse the incoming dishes so the others could run off to get ready. Kevin was first, giving his father a hug then tearing off at a sprint to get dressed. Ava was a few minutes behind; she dropped off her dish, giving Steve a quick kiss on the cheek before also going to her room to get ready. TJ was slower to finish his toast, but he’d managed to eat an entire piece and finish off a small glass of juice. The twelve year old handed off his plate with a small smile and walked back to his room to get ready. Bucky still had over half of his breakfast left and he was pushing it around with his fork, taking a few small bites here and there.

Steve moved to sit down next to his husband once more. He tugged Bucky’s stool closet so he could place his feet on the rungs and put his hands on Bucky’s waist. “Heya, soldier,” he said, softly.

Bucky’s lips quirked into a small smirk; just as quietly, he said, “hey, Cap. Whatcha doin’ in a place like this?”

“Lookin’ for a guy like you,” Steve answered, leaning over to nip lightly at Bucky’s collar bone. “Mmm . . . sweet and salty, perfect.”

The brunet mewled quietly, shifting in his seat, “gotta get ready for duty, Cap. You’re distractin’ me.”

“You distract me every damn minute, soldier. Can’t get enough o’ you.” Steve nibbled again then placed a kiss along the bone. “My pretty love . . .”

Humming softly, Bucky looked over at his husband, “ya know, Cap. We can save time and water if we share a shower?”

“Save water, yeah, but take twice as long since I’ll need to make sure to clean you fully inside and out, baby,” Steve promised.

The sound of Keivn’s sneakers and Avenger’s toenails sounded from the hall.

Sighing, Bucky nodded and pulled back slightly; he looked down at his plate, “did I eat enough, Stevie?”

“You always eat enough, Buck. Don’t worry about it.” Steve grinned and pulled the plate over, taking Bucky’s fork. “You can take a shower while I finish up.”

Nodding, Bucky slipped from the stool and walked out of the room.

Glancing at the small plate of meds, Steve called out, “and then come back here, baby!”

“‘Kay,” Bucky answered as he walked down the hall.

Steve looked at the mostly mashed omelette with only about a fourth gone. Bucky’s appetite had suffered with his exhaustion. Steve knew that he couldn’t push or Bucky’d start throwing up, like he used to. Instead, he’d go with encouraging his lover, coaxing him gently.

When Bucky came back in, Steve grinned. “Heya, sexy.” He pushed the plate of meds towards his husband, along with the remainder of Bucky’s juice. “Might want these.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiled softly, taking the meds and then looking at Steve. “Mind helping me with the arm? Was thinking about using it today?”

“Great idea,” Steve nodded. “Well get that in a minute. What I wanted to talk about was TJ, Buck.” Steve kissed his husband’s lips and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first, but I’m going to be buying TJ a piano to work on while he goes through this. And I’ve already told him the piano is his to keep, even take with him when he moves.” Steve waited for Bucky’s reaction.

Blinking, Bucky looked surprised but then nodded, giving Steve a smile, “that’s a great idea, Steve. He loves playing piano and having one available for him might help him a lot.”

“I’m glad you think so. And, it can’t be half bad getting to hear him play while either of us are home with him, huh?” Steve winked. “I figure it’ll encourage him to get up and do things when he’s only feeling blah instead of really sick.”

“I didn’t think you’d be able to get him outta bed. Kevin said he was up all last night,” Bucky reported.

“He was feeling tired and droopy, I swear. But he seemed to want to try to come with us and once I mentioned letting him pick out a piano today, he perked up even more. Did you know he blamed himself for his parents leaving the house that night instead of the next day? We talked a bit about his parents and his feelings.” Steve sighed, hugging Bucky. “It’s a small break through.”

“I’d say. He hardly said their names over the past few months. And . . . he blames himself? Why?” Bucky looked at Steve, pale eyes worried.

“He acted up so they grounded him instead of letting him go to a farmhouse they were supposed to visit. Instead of leaving the next morning, they left that night.” Steve shook his head, not understanding how any parent could decide to leave a kid behind, even with servants. It had bothered him ever since they’d started taking TJ and Doug in for vacations when the twins were eight; an apparently well hidden secret of the former President’s.

“And he thinks because he acted up, got grounded, that his parents decided to leave that night instead of the morning?” Bucky asked, looking confused.

“Yeah, I told him they probably wanted to beat traffic.” Steve pulled away from his husband at last, hearing the sounds of the three kids piling out of the two bedrooms. “We can have the clinic convert Kevin’s unused room into a temporary music room for TJ while we’re here.”

“That’d be perfect,” Bucky agreed with a small smile.

**************

Later, at the mall, the family garnered a lot of attention due to Avenger, walking next to Kevin, and Malakai, next to TJ, on their leashes, sporting their working vests. At least twice, Steve had to gently tell a curious kid “no, please don’t touch the dogs. They’re working.” They’d already gotten some notebooks, pens, and other school staples and were on the hunt for the clothing.

Kevin pointed to the shoe store and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Papa! There, shoes.”

Smiling softly, Bucky let Kevin drag him into the store. He’d had Steve help him put on his prosthetic arm that day and the limb felt heavy . . . he really shouldn’t have gone so long without having it on.

Steve chuckled and looked at Ava. “How about a new pair of shoes for school, princess? Or maybe for work?”

Ava smiled, though her eyes darted to look at Bucky, who happened to be out of earshot of the other three family members. “Yeah, that’d be great,” she nodded, walking with Steve towards the store.

Putting a hand on her back, Steve guided her down the ladies’ shoes aisle, letting Bucky go down the kid’s aisle for Kevin’s and TJ’s footwear. Kevin, with his small, delicate frame, had tiny feet still. Steve nodded encouragement to TJ to accompany Bucky and Kevin.

Picking up a lavender sneaker with unicorns printed on it, Kevin smiled and displayed it for Bucky. “That’s cute, right?”

Looking at the shoe, a little surprised at the choice, Bucky gave the boy a smile, “yeah, they are very cute,” he didn’t mention that the shoe Kevin picked out were technically _girl’s_ shoes; they’d long been used to the idea that Kevin often wanted to wear _girl_ clothes or colors. “Did you wanna try ‘em on?”

“Nope, I just thought they were cute.” Kevin put it back and moved on to a pair of pink with teddy bears. He looked at every pair of overly cute shoes there were, or so it seemed, and finally settled on a pair of sneakers in light aquamarine and a pair of regular shoes in lavender and pink swirls, both normally considered girl’s shoes. “These,” he said happily after trying them on.

Bucky nodded, “they look good, Tiger,” he’d never make Kevin chose what would be considered _boy’s_ shoes. If his son wanted pink and lavender shoes, he’d get them. Bucky could remember his own father telling him some of his choices were a little _feminine_ . . . George Barnes hadn’t been abusive by any means; he’d just had a hard time accepting all of his son’s choices.

The three of them moved to TJ’s sizes, and it took some coaxing but Bucky finally managed to get the boy to try on a few pairs of shoes. After going through some of his choices, TJ picked out a pair of grey sneakers.

Kevin looked over and said, “you need regular shoes, too, for school, TJ. The counselor said sneakers are only for gym class.”

Looking at the choices in front of him with a frown, TJ looked at the shoes in his hands and then back at the other pairs for sale, “which ones are _regular_ shoes?”

“These,” Kevin touched three of the pairs TJ had tried on. “Those are regular shoes.” He smiled at his cousin.

“Oh . . .” TJ nodded and then picked out a dark blue pair from the three that Kevin had gestured to, “these ones?”

Kevin grinned and nodded. “Those are pretty!” He led Bucky and TJ back to the counter, having Bucky put his shoes up on the high counter top for him.

Meeting back at the front, Steve let Ava put her two selections on the counter then smiled at the sight of Kevin’s choices. “Those what you want, Kev?” he asked.

“Yup,” Kevin answered quietly, smiling and touching a swirl on one shoe.

Nodding, Steve turned to Bucky. “Two each okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, giving his husband a smile. He stepped up to the counter and paid for the six pairs of shoes, only momentarily forgetting his pin number for his card before it came back to him.

Nodding, Steve led the small group on to the next store, _Hot Topic_ , and grinned as Kevin’s eyes widened at the different outfits.

Ava immediately began looking at the different shirts.

Steve stepped up behind Bucky as Kevin and Avenger went off on their own for a bit. Steve kissed the back of his husband’s neck and whispered, “pastels, huh?”

Humming, Bucky nodded, whispering back, “both from the girl section, too.”

“Well, I can say they _are_ cute at least,” Steve chuckled. “All this time, he’s been patiently letting us dress him, and he _prefers_ pastels. I should have remembered that from Disney, huh?”

“Yeah, but we both forgot . . . well, at least now we know,” Bucky shrugged, the prosthetic whirring softly with the movement.

“If high school in a couple years for him is anything like for us? He’s going to fit in several lockers.” Steve sighed and frowned softly, worry in his eyes.

“Can we _not_ think about our son getting shoved into a locker, please?” Bucky sighed, though he sounded just as concerned, “that’s the last thing he should be worrying about.”

Steve ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. But it only hit me just now, he’s starting seventh grade, Buck. In a couple of years, he’ll be in high school. And he looks like a third grader!”

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “yeah, I know . . . I keep hoping that once he hits puberty he’ll shoot up like you did . . . maybe bulk up some more?”

“But I always had big hands and feet, Bucky. It’s possible he’ll stay delicate looking. Look how tiny his hands and feet are.” Steve slipped his arms around Bucky in a hug.

Kevin turned a wide smile on his parents, holding up a pink shirt with a pony on the front that said, _‘Pony Stud’_ on it. Steve choked and buried his face in Bucky’s neck.

Bucky gave his son an encouraging smile and lifted his left hand to give him a thumbs up.

“My God, the clothes nowadays. Makes me feel old, Buck,” Steve whispered.

“My Pa woulda slapped me if I brought that shirt home,” Bucky snorted softly.

“My Ma woulda sent me to confession,” Steve replied with a chuckle.

Ava walked over to the two men, holding a few shirts from different bands she liked, “is it okay if I get these?”

“Whatcha think, Buck? Those okay for school?” Steve asked. “I mean, it’s not _Pony Stud_ , but . . .”

Tilting his head, Bucky looked at the shirts Ava had picked out; after a moment he nodded, “those are fine.”

Steve offered her a smile, “put them on the counter. You said you needed pants, too?”

Ava nodded, though Bucky took the shirts instead of having her put them on the small counter space. He draped them over his right arm as he leaned back against his husband. Ava went over to the decent selection of skinny jeans.

TJ mostly followed Kevin around, approving of the boy’s more feminine tastes just like he’d done when he'd been eight. After a while, the twelve year old started to browse the store’s items, pulling many shirts off the rack or shelves and putting them back after looking at them. He ended up picking out a shirt from a TV show he liked. He brought the item back to the adults and asked, “is this okay?”

Steve winked as he took it to examine, “no hidden nudey pictures, right? Nope, it’s good. More like that, baby.” He grinned at TJ.

“More than the one shirt?” TJ asked softly.

“Try for two shirts and two pairs of pants at the very least, TJ. You should have at least seven outfits, though. You’re outgrowing everything so quickly.” Steve gave the boy an encouraging smile. “And next store we’ll look at clothes for when you just wanna lounge around, okay? Want us to get a scooter for you yet?”

“No, I’m okay so far, just a little queasy but not like I’m gonna throw up,” TJ answered honestly, Bruce had explained to him that he needed to be honest with Steve and Bucky about how he felt so they could help him. The twelve year old thought back to that Disney World trip from when he was eight and how after the first day, Kevin had used a stroller instead of tiring himself out with all that walking.

Nodding, Steve said, “you let us know when you need rest, TJ. After clothes, I hope to get that piano.”

Lips twitching into a smile, TJ nodded, “okay, I will. Thanks,” he said before turning to walk back to Kevin and browse the selections again.

Kevin walked over next and smiled up at his fathers. “I found a couple of really cute shirts,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky smiled, “let’s see ‘em, then. I’ll be the judge of cuteness.”

Holding up the first shirt, it turned out to be a light red, near pink, with a picture of a kitten rising out of the sea and batting at a wooden ship the same size as it. The ship was not a toy, but the image of a real sailing ship of old. The second shirt was a light mint green with the same kitten on the Empire State Building, swatting at biplanes.

Nodding, Bucky gave his son another smile, “you’re right, those are very cute,” he snuck a glance at his husband, watching for his reaction.

Steve nodded solemnly, though a smile played at his mouth and eyes. “Totally cute,” he agreed.

Ava came back with two pairs of jeans, one black and the other a light blue, the light blue ones appeared to be ripped at both knees and some of the distressing was on the thighs as well. She looked at Steve and Bucky, smiling, “got some jeans.”

“Those are torn. Get good ones, princess,” Steve gestured to the distressed blue jeans.

Huffing, Ava shook her head, “they’re _supposed_ to be, Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. “How much for the torn jeans?” He frowned softly.

Ava looked at the price tag, “the same as the other jeans,” she reported.

“Well, if they’re selling pre-ripped clothes, they should give us bargain bin prices,” Steve frowned more.

“Steve,” Bucky couldn’t help the laugh in his tone, “distressed jeans are a style. God, you really _are_ old.”

Shaking his head, Steve argued, “Old or not, no kid should be wearing clothes that look like they can’t afford to replace them.”

“ _Fine_ , I’ll put ‘em back,” Ava said.

“Look, princess, I can get two pair of jeans for that price at _Target_ and rip ‘em for you . . .” Steve shot back.

She nodded and put the ripped jeans back on the shelf.

Turning to Bucky, Steve sighed, “why would kids want someone else to rip their clothes? Half the fun of wearing ‘em out was to get the wearing where it was most comfortable.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head, “‘cause they wanna look like tough punks? I don’t know.”

“Huh,” Steve looked back at the shirts Kevin patiently still held up. “We should get those, Bucky . . .”

Nodding, Bucky pulled out of Steve’s arms to take Kevin’s shirts, he also grabbed Ava’s black jeans and headed towards the counter.

Steve smiled at Ava. “Don’t worry. We’ve got a few more stores before you run out of chances to shock me.”

Ava shrugged, “I wasn’t trying to shock you, Steve. I just forget that the dinosaurs didn’t do ripped jeans,” she teased.

“Course not,” Steve snickered, “we didn’t even _have_ clothes in dino days.”

TJ found another shirt and offered it to Bucky so he could pay for it. Looking back at Steve, he said, “I couldn’t really find anything else . . . I can look at the other stores, right?”

Nodding, Steve smiled, “we’ll be going to another store next, TJ. Maybe you’ll find jeans you like there?”

Bucky paid for the items, grabbing the bag from the clerk when she handed it to him.

Steve took that bag from Bucky, adding it to the shoe bag he already carried. “Next store _Target_ , anyone?” he offered.

By the time they were done, all three kids were completely ready to start school the following week. Kevin ended up getting more, simply because he needed more of the actual school supplies than Ava did, though TJ got quite a few things, too. Steve teased Kevin, calling him a pack rat, but he knew, like the rest of the family, that with Kevin just starting school for the first time ever, he didn’t have old supplies and school clothes to fall back on.

Before they looked at pianos, Steve insisted on getting all three kids their very own laptops and making sure Kevin and TJ had phones. He winked at Ava as she carried her new laptop case, saying, “even we Dino’s can recognize the need to stay in touch.”

Ava laughed and shook her head, thanking both her adoptive parents for the laptop.

**************

Unfortunately, that night, as he was brushing his teeth, Kevin went into another seizure, almost five minutes long. If it hadn’t been for Avenger forcing him away from the sink and toilet, Kevin might have hit his head when he fell. After he came back to himself, Kevin cried until he was sick and fell asleep soon after throwing up.

Bucky, who’d been in his room, heard Avenger’s yipping from the bathroom. The brunet hurried from the room to check on Kevin.

Steve came out of the master bath, unaware of the drama unfolding down the hall.

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice called out, “need your help! Kevin had a seizure!”

Head shooting up, Steve darted from the room and down the hall. He skidded to his knees beside the boy, turning him to the side and making sure that he didn’t have any vomit in his mouth to choke him. Steve checked the airway, which was fine, and pulse, also fine. Nodding, he said, “Bucky, vomit isn’t good. We should get medical help.”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, looking worried.

Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Bruce. He stood and moved out of the way, still watching intently as he spoke quickly with the doctor. Finally, he hung up and nodded. “Bruce is coming.” He hovered.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, still kneeling by his son, “he was doing good, Steve . . .” Bucky whispered, pain and misery in his voice.

“I know, Buck,” Steve said, softly. He glanced out of the room and then back in. “I’ll go open the door so Bruce can come in and let Ava and TJ know what’s happening.” He gave the pair one last worried look and ran out. Steve glanced at TJ by the closet. “TJ? Kevin’s had a seizure. Bruce is coming.” He hurried out and down the hall, knocking on Ava’s door.

Ava opened the door and looked at the blond, seeing his distress, she frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“Kevin had another seizure, and this time he vomited. No one knew until Bucky went in and found him. Bruce is coming.” Steve glanced towards the door, keeping a distracted ear out for the doctor.

“Oh, okay,” Ava nodded.

“Go ask Bucky if he wants your help, princess? I can hear the door.” Steve took off to go let Bruce in.

Ava nodded again and went to ask her uncle if he wanted her help. Ultimately, he left it up to her.

A loud bark came from TJ’s room, something was wrong if Malakai was barking that loud. When Steve made it back into the apartment with Bruce, another loud bark filled the apartment, coming from TJ’s room. Steve instantly detoured to the bedroom, since they were heading towards the shared bathroom to begin with.

“TJ?” Steve stepped into the room then skidded to TJ’s side, loosening his clothes and turning him to his side. “Bruce!” he screamed, noting the ashy blue color to TJ’s skin, the lack of breathing. “He’s not breathing!”

Bruce knelt down and began working on TJ, calm and steady though urgent. Moments later, Bruce stroked TJ’s curls, watching as the boy breathed on his own once more. “Okay, everyone, it’s okay now. This can happen with TJ’s kind of seizures. I’ll show you how to help him once everything’s over. Let’s get him on the bed.”

TJ blinked sluggishly, looking dazed, “Steve?” He rasped, pale eyes moving until he saw the large blond.

“Hey, baby, right here,” Steve stroked TJ’s hair and offered a smile, looking relieved. “You came back to us, baby.”

“Don’t . . . don’t feel . . . good, Steve,” TJ whimpered softly; he could hardly move anything, his body felt as if it had no energy left.

Nodding, Steve soothed, “I know, baby. You had a real bad one this time. But you’re home now and safe. I’m gonna sit in here with you while you rest and regain your strength.”

TJ nodded slowly, still lying on his side on the floor, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Was . . . was I gone long?”

Steve stroked TJ’s hair and said, “longer than normal, but under five minutes, TJ. Bruce says it’s actually normal for your kinds of seizure. You . . . you stopped breathing for a few seconds and started on your own, like you’d been holding your breath.” Steve nodded when Bruce softly told him he could move TJ, now on an IV, onto the bed after cleaning him up. Steve began to strip TJ the rest of the way; his shirt had already been removed by the doctor. Steve knew the truth was terrifying, but he didn’t believe in lying about something so serious; TJ had to know so he could be prepared. “Malakai actually alerted us, TJ. He must have realized what to do from watching Avenger so many times with you and Kevin. What an amazing, good dog!”

Malakai followed the humans towards the bed and sat right by the edge, wide eyes watching TJ carefully, ears straight and attentive.

TJ blinked up at the two adults and said, “stopped . . . breathing? Did . . . did I die?”

Steve shook his head and chuckled, an indicator that TJ wasn’t as bad as he might think, “not at all. Like I said, it was like you held your breath then passed out from it. You stopped breathing for a few seconds and your body said _‘whoa, not happening!’_ and started up again.” Steve settled the boy then sat down close to his bedside. He left plenty of room for Kevin when he was able to be brought in.

“Okay,” TJ nodded, “can . . . can I sleep? ‘M kinda tired . . .”

“You go ahead, baby. I’ll be right here watching out for you.” Steve kissed TJ’s head gently.

Nodding, TJ let his eyes shut again, and the boy’s breathing evened out with sleep in only a few moments.

In the bathroom Kevin opened his eyes and whimpered.

Bucky cooed gently, smoothing some hair away from the boy’s forehead, inadvertently using his metal limb, “hey, Tiger. You’re okay.”

The boy whimpered again and rolled into Bucky, unable to do much but begin to cry all over again. The dog whimpered in response to his master’s distress.

Bucky continued to try and soothe his son until Bruce was free to leave TJ in the other room.

Bruce finally joined Bucky and Kevin, giving a rueful smile of worry. “How is he, Bucky?”

“Upset?” Bucky glanced over at Bruce with a frown, “weak.”

Nodding, Bruce checked over the small blond and sighed, “he vomited from stress, Bucky. It sometimes happens with seizures. I’d say he cried himself sick. Why don’t we finish cleaning him up and get him into bed?”

Bucky nodded and finished cleaning the small boy, drying him off with a soft towel and then scooping Kevin up in his arms to carry into the bedroom. Looking over at Steve who sat at TJ’s beside, Bucky carefully lay Kevin down under the sheets and asked, “how’s TJ?”

“He’s sleeping it off now, began breathing on his own within maybe twenty seconds?” Steve looked over both boys with extreme worry. “He’s terrified, as I would expect, and I had to convince him he didn’t try to die. Malakai was such a good boy alerting for us.” Steve reached out his large hand to stroke Malakai’s ears.

Sighing softly, Bucky nodded and ran his flesh fingers through Kevin’s hair. He looked at TJ and then back at Steve, “it’s all happening so fast, Steve . . .”

Nodding, Steve reached over to stroke Kevin’s hair, not quite able to reach Bucky. “I know. I think I might be seeing a pattern, though. Did you notice that pretty much every seizure TJ’s had comes on the heels of Kevin having one?”

Bruce nodded, interrupting, “the worry and stress fires his brain exactly where the tumor is. It’s inevitable for TJ. We need to find ways to keep him calmer, as stress free as possible. It can help minimize his seizures as the medicine takes effect.”

“How do we do that with Kevin having so many?” Bucky asked, worried pale eyes looking at Bruce.

The doctor shook his head, “we’re still working on that one. But, if we can find something that calms TJ, helps him realize that Kevin is okay, despite the seizures, it might work. Of course, keeping Kevin calm can’t hurt, either.” The doctor stepped back from Kevin’s side and stroked Malakai, “good boy.” He also stroked Avenger.

“The piano is a definite must,” Bucky nodded, looking back at Steve, “anything else you can think of?”

“If you arrange for delivery, I’ll make sure the techs get that room cleared out tonight for it,” Bruce said. “You might want to go, before they shut down the store, and pay for it or whatever else was holding it up?” Bruce didn’t question the addition of the expensive instrument, familiar with TJ’s background.

Steve sighed, “they need signatures and drop off info only.”

“I can drive over there,” Bucky looked at the clock and then back at Steve, “if I hurry I can get everything signed off tonight so they can deliver tomorrow?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on the boys. Let Ava know to keep an ear out, too, just in case?” Steve stood and walked around the bed to Bucky. He kissed him gently, “I love you. We’ll get through this.”

Nodding, Bucky kissed Steve quickly and said, “I know. I love you, too.” The brunet hurried from the room, stopping by Ava’s room to check in and tell her what he was doing. After that, he grabbed his keys and phone before rushing out the door.

**************

Steve looked at the clock almost absently and his eyes widened, stunned. Nearly two hours had passed and Bucky hadn’t shown back up yet. He wondered if something had happened so pulled out his phone to see if he missed a message in his worry.

Just then, the phone lit up signaling that Bucky was calling.

Nearly dropping the phone in surprise, Steve flicked it on and answered, “Steve. Bucky?”

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was small, fear very evident in his tone.

“What happened, baby?” Steve asked, instant worry soaring again.

“I - - I . . .” Bucky took a shaky breath, “I don’t . . . I don’t know where I am, Steve . . .”

Forcing himself to sound calm, Steve asked carefully, “are you in the car, Bucky?”

“Y - - yeah . . . I pulled over . . .” Steve could hear that his husband was terrified. “I . . . think I may have had a flashback or something . . .”

“Okay, baby, take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You seem to get them with increased stress, just like TJ’s seizures.” Steve kept his tone even. “Tell me if you can see any street signs.”

Steve could hear his husband follow the instructions and after a moment, Bucky answered, “n - - no . . . I can’t see any, Steve . . . I don’t think I’ve ever been here before and my phone isn’t getting enough service to load the maps . . .”

“Okay, love, do you know how to turn on your phone’s GPS tracker?” Steve remained calm sounding, needing to guide his husband without terrifying him as badly as Kevin had terrified himself. They didn’t need Bucky lost _and_ sick.

“I think so?” Bucky answered shakily; his voice got quieter as he pulled the phone from his ear and after a few more moments he said, “I think I got it . . .”

“Okay, do not turn off your phone, baby. I’m going to be there as soon as I can. Until then, lock your doors, crack your windows slightly, and wait. Kevin and TJ’re okay and sleeping now. They’re not in any danger. Ava can watch them for us and Bruce is still here.” Steve turned to signal Bruce that he needed the doctor’s phone.

“O - - okay,” Bucky whimpered, “I’m . . . I’m sorry . . .”

“Hey, Buck, talk to me, baby. I want you to recite poetry or sing a song or just tell me anything that comes to mind. I’m here, sweetheart,” Steve reassured him, knowing Bucky must feel useless and helpless. He quickly dialed Natasha’s number and held the phone against the other side of his face.

As Bucky began to recite a poem he’d learned while in college, Natasha’s voice answered after the third ring, “Bruce? What’s wrong?”

Steve said, knowing Bucky could hear him and not wanting to upset him more, “Kevin and TJ are doing fine now, so I can come find you, Buck, using the GPS on your phone. I’m just waiting for a ride from Natasha, okay, baby?”

“I’m leaving now,” Natasha stated firmly; she hung up.

Steve smiled in relief at the cleverness of their friend. He hung up Bruce’s phone and handed it back, still keeping Bucky on the other line. Steve gave Kevin’s hair a last stroke and TJ another gentle kiss before heading for the door of the clinic.

Fifteen minutes passed before Natasha’s car pulled up alongside the curb.

Opening the passenger door, Steve said, “okay, try the _Three Blind Mice_ song, baby.” He slid into the seat and buckled in using one hand. He knew he was using children’s rhymes to calm Bucky, but it appeared that Bucky remembered the stuff from his childhood better than more recent stuff, much like an elderly patient. When he wasn’t so stressed, his memory was much better.

“Where is he?” Natasha asked, worry evident on her face and in her tone.

Steve pulled the phone from his ear and showed her the screen, displaying Bucky’s GPS blip. He turned the phone to speaker and called out, “Good, Can you do the _Owl and the Pussycat_?” It was a longer poem that Steve chose, and one he’d first learned before meeting Bucky but taught him within days of meeting him so long ago.

Bucky began to recite the poem, voice still shaky over the speaker; Steve and Natasha could hear a few cars driving past. The red-haired woman pulled back into traffic, noting that Bucky’s location was nearly an hour and a half away.

After awhile of children’s rhymes and poems, Steve had Bucky switch back to popular music from their childhood and high school days. He sang with Bucky, lightly, so Bucky could try to get through the words, never once correcting him if he made a mistake. The idea was to calm and distract Bucky, not test his memory. Steve kept the phone where Natasha could see it, signaling turns by either pushing her arm so she’d turn left or pulling it so she turned right.

Natasha didn’t say anything, her eyes flickering between the road and screen occasionally, her lips pulled into a worried frown.

**************

A knock came to Bucky’s window, and a flashlight shone in but down towards the floorboards rather than in the driver’s face.

Bucky jumped and looked at the window, stopping the song he’d been singing with Steve.

The man knocked on the window again and said, through the crack, “Officer Castle. Are you in distress, sir?”

“I - - I . . .” Bucky stammered, flushing and looking at his lap.

Steve’s voice asked, “Bucky? What’s wrong, baby? You need a different song?”

“N - - no . . . police . . .” Bucky reported on a shaky whisper, sounding panicked.

“A cop is there? Ask to see his badge then tell him what happened, baby,” Steve instructed calmly.

Bucky looked back up at the police officer and asked, “c - - can I see a badge? Please?”

Nodding, keeping the light lowered so Bucky could see him, the cop pulled out his identification and showed it through the window. His badge identified him as Detective Frank Castle of the Manhattan Police Force. “Someone called, said your car’s been sitting here for almost two hours and you seemed to just be sitting here. Thought maybe you were contemplating suicide.” Normally a beat cop would have been sent, but Frank had taken the call instead.

“Wh - - what? No . . . I - - I got lost? My husband is coming . . .” Bucky answered quietly, pale eyes scared.

Looking around, Castle nodded and said, “these streets can be a real rabbit warren. Mind if I wait with you, make sure things are okay?”

“O - - okay,” Bucky answered with a small nod.

The cop nodded back. “Don’t get out of your car, sir, it’s not necessary. I’ll go sit in mine and wait, unless you want to get out, stretch your legs, and just talk while we wait?” The offer was friendly, even if his face was serious.

“C - - can I get out, Steve?” Bucky asked softly.

“Yes, don’t wander from the cop’s side, Buck, we don’t know who’s lurking, and I want you safe. Don’t turn off your phone. In fact, can you have the cop tell us all where you are?” Steve jumped at the chance for Bucky to interact with another calming presence.

Nodding, Bucky carefully stepped out of the car.

The detective stepped back, hands in a relaxed pose, and offered a quick nod to Bucky. He stood as tall as Steve, with jet dark hair and a serious demeanor.

Turning the phone on speaker, Bucky looked over at Castle, “um . . . can you tell us where I am? Please?”

“Yes, sir,” Detective Castle answered. “You’re nearly out of the city, on the outskirts of Queens. I was in the neighborhood, which is why a Manhattan cop came instead of a Queens cop.” He showed the badge again, so Bucky could see it clearer then recited the street they were on and the house number Bucky sat in front of. “There’s a big fire going on about ten blocks from here, so the Queen’s force is pretty busy right now. You wouldn’t know anything about that, maybe?”

“N - - No . . .” Bucky shook his head, eyes wide; he clutched his phone tightly in his right hand, his prosthetic gleaming in the moonlight, “I don’t know anything about a fire . . . I - - I was just . . . I got lost . . .”

Nodding, Castle said, “mind if I see ID? Just so we both feel better?” He remained in that relaxed pose. His eyes flicked over both of Bucky’s wrists, noting the metal one.

Bucky’s left hand went to his back pocket and his eyes widened more; he patted all his pockets and then said, “Steve . . . I - - I forgot my wallet . . .”

“It’s okay, baby, just explain to the cop. That happens to people all the time,” Steve reassured. “We’ll be there very soon. Natasha’s got your location on her car’s GPS now.”

Whimpering softly, Bucky looked back at the cop, “I - - I have a hard time remembering things after I have a flashback . . . I - - I forgot my wallet . . .”

Eyes flicking to the phone in Bucky’s hand then back to his face, Castle actually offered a soft smile to the frightened, confused man. “It’s okay. I do, too.” He lifted his wrist, displaying a med-alert bracelet. “I got a med-alert bracelet with my name and address on the inside and on the outside it states _’traumatic brain injury.’_ Maybe you can get one too once this all blows over? I can write that down for you, if you’d like?”

Flushing brightly, Bucky ducked his head and nodded, “o - - okay.” He felt a little better seeing the med-alert bracelet, that this man was an active police officer with memory problems.

“Hey, memory problems aren’t something to be ashamed of. You didn’t do it on purpose, and it’s not contagious or harmful to others. You just need a little help once in awhile. Like when you first got that arm, right?” Castle soothed.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky nodded, still not lifting his head, mortified by this whole situation.

Nodding, Castle pulled out his little notebook and pen. He pulled out the last page and wrote something down quickly. “You know, when I had troubles at first, it drove us all up the wall with how often I flashed back to the . . . trauma. Then, one day, I realized,” Castle looked up, “I’d rather be forgetful than not here at all. Now, I don’t mind so much. When I was little, my Momma reminded me of things. Now it’s my wife’s turn, you know? It’s what you do when you love someone.” He handed the paper over.

Bucky took the paper, lifting his head; Castle could see his eyes were brimmed with tears, “thank you . . .”

The officer nodded and offered his smile again. “Keep working on it, champ. You might never get the old memory power back, but you’re still around. And your husband will always be thankful for that. Don’t give up and let them push you into a safe corner, either. Offer to help, even if you feel under foot. They’ll adjust and you’ll find a way to work with it. Just like your arm.”

Natasha’s car pulled up behind the police cruiser.

The cop instantly went on alert, hand going to his service revolver, stepping between the new car and Bucky. He offered a serious look to the two in the car. “May I help you?”

Steve let himself out of the car and held up his phone. “I’m the husband, Steve Rogers. Thank you, Officer Castle, for helping my husband, Bucky?”

Knowing that the blond with the phone would’ve heard his name over that open phone line, Castle looked over at Bucky. “You going with him?” He offered an encouraging smile.

Bucky nodded, phone clutched in one hand, paper in the other.

Frank offered his right hand to shake. “Turn off the phone and give the paper to your husband, Bucky, and have a better night.” He smiled.

Nodding, Bucky hung up the phone, sliding it in his pocket before shaking Castle’s hand, “thank you.”

“Things’ll look better in the morning. And they’ll get better day by day. In a few months, you’ll look back at this night and realize it.” He knew that if the husband was as good as he should be, he’d have heard Frank’s words of advice for loving Bucky despite the memory troubles and letting him help. The more Bucky felt included and loved, the less stress would make things harder. It might never help completely, but Bucky should be able to get back up on his feet in time and with understanding.

Swallowing again, Bucky nodded.

Steve opened his arms, “Buck?” he called softly.

Looking over, Bucky hurried over and buried himself against Steve’s chest, releasing a shaky breath, “I’m - - I’m sorry . . . th - - thought if I kept looking . . . they’d look familiar. I think I saw someone that looked like Brock and . . . and I just kept driving?”

Steve hugged him hard then lifted Bucky’s face in his hands and looked him in the eyes “I love you, Bucky. And as of right now, you shouldn’t apologize for forgetting. You tried, and that’s important.. The man’s right. It’s not your fault. It’s like someone on crutches apologizing for being slower in the hall. It’s not his fault. He’s trying.” Steve stroked Bucky’s back, “and I’m glad you did drive on, Bucky. If it had been Brock, you were safer not sticking around. Sensible Bucky.” Steve kissed Bucky’s lips. “And I love you.”

A few tears fell down Bucky’s cheeks and he nodded, “I - - I love you, too, Stevie . . .” he sniffled and offered the paper Frank had given him.

Smiling, Steve read it and nodded. “Well, that’s a great idea. Do you know what he wrote here, baby?”

Bucky looked at the paper and then Steve, “some - - something about a medical bracelet?”

“That’s part of it, yeah,” Steve confirmed, “but it’s also the information for a counseling group for families with a member with memory problems.” He smiled. “I think, Bucky, I’d like to go and learn how to help you better. I’ve been coming up short in the _take care of Bucky_ department lately. I think Ava can use the help, too.”

“I - - I don’t . . . I don’t want her to be annoyed . . .” Bucky said softly, eyes falling.

Steve leaned in and kissed Bucky again. “A counseling group will help her to learn not to be annoyed, Bucky. If you think back, maybe you can remember your own counseling for learning to deal with me and my abuse trauma?”

Bucky nodded, “I - - I love you, Steve . . .”

“God, how I love you, Bucky!” Steve hugged him again. He turned his head to smile towards Natasha. “Thanks for helping us on such short notice, Nat. We really appreciate it.” He continued to cuddle Bucky.

Natasha nodded; she gave a smile to the two men, “we should get heading back.”

Nodding, Steve looked at Bucky. “You okay to drive while I play navigator till you get in a familiar place again?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

Smiling, Steve looked at Natasha, and, taking Castle’s advice, instead of telling Nat they’d follow her, he called, “follow us back?”

“Sure thing,” Natasha nodded again and then slid back into her car.

Steve turned and shook the detective’s hand then led Bucky back to his car, getting into the passenger seat and settling, belting in. He leaned over a little, since the belt held him in place, and said, “just waiting on you, love.” Steve offered his smile. “We’ll head to the clinic.”

Bucky nodded; he buckled in and started the car, “Kevin’s okay? TJ?”

“Yeah, Bucky, they’re okay. Bruce just wants to sit with them through the night for observation.” Steve put a hand on Bucky’s wrist and smiled at him. “Turn left just at the next road.”

Bucky listened to his husband’s directions; he looked over at Steve quickly before looking at the road again, “so, they’re okay. They’ll be fine. I - - I was worried.”

“Yup,” Steve confirmed again, not minding saying it over and over. He was relieved his son and Bucky’s cousin were okay. “Kevin and TJ both were sleeping when I left, and Bruce said he’d get Wade to listen if Ava needed help since Wade was awake and wandering the halls by then. But Bruce was planning on staying the entire night with them any way.”

“Wade?” Bucky looked at his husband again, that flicker of confusion passing through his eyes.

Nodding, Steve smiled, “You can ask, Bucky. You only met him a couple of times. He was a burn victim that lives at the clinic permanently. He helps out around the clinic.”

“Oh, okay . . .” Bucky nodded. He allowed his husband to guide him through the streets and, shortly after midnight, they finally made it back to the clinic. Parking the car, Bucky sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the movement.

“And here we are. You okay, baby? I can help you get the arm off.” Steve smiled at his husband.

Bucky frowned looking at the clock on the dashboard, “sorry, Steve . . . you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, but so must you be, baby,” Steve countered. “Come on, let’s go in and check on our boys then check our girl to reassure her. She’s probably waiting by the phone for news, and I forgot to call her.”

Nodding, Bucky slipped out of the car, letting the door shut softly behind him.

Steve got out and waved to Natasha. “Wanna get going or want to come in and check on Kevin and TJ, Nat?” he asked.

“I’m gonna go home, if it’s alright with you two, I’m opening the shop tomorrow,” she said, standing behind her opened car door.

“Thanks for everything. We’ll let you know how things turn out,” and something about Steve’s tone suggested that he spoke of more than just the boys.

Nodding, understanding the hint, Natasha said, “no problem. Talk to you two later, say hi to Kevin and TJ for me,” and with that she got back in her car and pulled back into traffic.

Steve guided Bucky up out of the clinic’s underground parking garage and towards the suite they had been settled in. “Let me get that arm off and we’ll be able to sleep.”

“That’s good,” Bucky nodded as he leaned against his husband’s side.

They moved into the four bedroom apartment and Steve stopped to let out a sigh. He guided Bucky to TJ’s small bedroom. “Okay, Bucky, be prepared. TJ’s on an IV and a bunch of monitors, just in case, but he’s okay. Bruce said it was just to be sure. Kevin’s just sleeping peacefully, no IV.” Steve reached over and helped Bucky of out his shirt as the pair made it to the bedroom doorway.

Bucky took in the sight of the two boys on the bed, both looking so small on the bed, though Bucky did smile softly when he realized that Kevin had wrapped himself around TJ in that same protective manner. Looking back at Steve, Bucky whispered, “I think Kevin’s gotten attached . . .”

Steve chuckled. “He always did like taking care of others. Ready to let Bruce watch them for the night?”

Looking back at the boys again, Bucky slowly nodded and then let Steve guide him from the doorway.

Steve didn’t bother to go check on Ava, instead phoning her cell. “Hey, princess. Did I wake you up? We’re back.”

“What?” Ava sounded very confused and then said, “no, didn’t wake me. Glad . . . glad you’re back.”

“You okay, princess? You sound out of breath,” Steve worried Ava was getting sick from all the high stress.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine . . . I - - I, uh, had to run out of bed, accidentally left my phone on my dresser. That’s why it took me a while to pick up,” her breath hitched and Steve could hear her hit something, “sorry, Shadow just - - ah . . . jumped up on the desk . . .”

Steve frowned, and flushed suddenly, wondering if instead of waking her up, he’d interrupted the poor girl masturbating. “Okay, see ya tomorrow,” he rushed and hung up, totally embarrassed.

Bucky looked at his husband with a quirked brow, “everything okay?”

Bright red, Steve nodded, “yeah, I think I called her while she was . . . relieving her tensions?”

“Oh . . .” Bucky flushed and nodded, “that’s good. Let’s . . . uh . . . go to bed?”

“Yeah, let’s tell Wade everything’s okay,” Steve answered and headed to the living room and their neighbor sitting on the couch. “Hey, Wade, everything gone okay?” Steve looked at the man at the corner of the couch, almost in the darker recesses; he had a bizarre pattern of burn scars across his flesh, making him look melted a bit.

“Oh, yeah, jus’ been relaxin’,” Wade reported, standing up, cracking his back in the process. “Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky gave the other man a small smile, trying to appear friendly though he had no memory of meeting Wade before, “hey . . . Wade.”

Steve said, “remember Bucky’s car accident six years ago? He’s had some memory issues since then. Please don’t be offended if he forgets your name or anything.” Steve smiled at his husband and dropped a kiss to his temple.

Wade nodded, not looking offended at all, “oh, yeah, I forget things sometimes, too. Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. See ya later,” and with that, the man walked out of the room; the apartment door could be heard opening and closing softly.

Looking at Bucky, Steve asked, “want me to finish getting that arm off you so we can go to bed, baby?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky nodded.

They walked into the master bedroom and Steve quickly helped Bucky out of the heavy prosthetic. He laid it carefully in the charger on the dresser then turned and hugged Bucky again. “Bruce had the place restocked with our daily pills and some cream,” he said before looking in the nightstand for the promised supplies. Steve pulled out several individual bubble packs of pills plus a small jar of medicated cream. He went for glasses of water in the bathroom then returned and sank onto the bed. “Care to join me for a rub, soldier?” he asked, playful but tired.

Smiling softly, Bucky nodded, looking just as tired as Steve sounded, “thought you’d never ask, Cap,” the brunet walked over and sat down next to his husband on the bed, his left side closer to Steve. The stump was once more rubbed raw, the prosthetic having been accidentally left on too long; some of the sores were even bleeding slightly.

Steve began to carefully apply the cream, knowing the lidocaine would numb the area so Bucky could get rest while the other medicines in the cream would begin to once more heal the damaged flesh. “In the morning, we can track down Tony and see what he can do about the arm, baby,” he murmured.

“M’kay, but I don’t wanna bother him if he’s really busy,” Bucky said softly, sighing as the cream began to work.

Laughing softly, Steve shook his head. “Bother Tony? He’ll adore the challenge.” Finally, Steve got up to clean his hands then came back and offered the water and Bucky’s night meds. “How’s that feeling now?”

“Better,” Bucky answered with a small nod; he took the pills first, popped them in his mouth, and then grabbed the water to swallow them down with.

Steve took his own night meds and placed the glass on the nightstand. “A bit calmer now you’re in a safe place, soldier?” he asked gently.

Humming softly, Bucky nodded, setting down his own glass, “yes, Captain,” he leaned over and kissed his husband, “the company ain’t half bad, either.”

Softly chuckling between kisses, Steve lay back on the bed and pulled Bucky down with him. “That’s good, ‘cause I plan to sleep with you and maybe even ravage you in the morning.”

“Maybe, I’ll _ravage you_ in the morning, Cap,” Bucky purred.

“Oh, promises promises, soldier.” Steve smiled and let his eyes close, holding his husband securely in his arms as he let himself drift off to sleep.


	11. Trouble is spelled A-V-A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Referenced Teen Sex, Lies, Traumatic Brain Injury**

Steve finished packing lunches, humming happily. For the last week, despite Bucky’s memory lapses and two more seizures for Kevin and TJ, the family had taken a turn for the happier. Ava seemed more relaxed since that night, and goodness knew Steve was . . . he and Bucky had actually managed to have sex a every night that week, a first since their honeymoon. Naturally, Steve had to lay down on bottom and let Bucky do most of the work, but they’d managed without Steve’s heart acting up.

Now, it was the first day of school for the kids and Steve happily hurried around fixing lunches, piling found school supplies, and getting breakfast together, while the kids got dressed and Bucky kept bringing in more and more school supplies to be packed up. Steve amusedly felt that Bucky was overdoing it, but since his husband seemed to be happy doing the fetch and find work, Steve let him go. He checked over to the living room couch were TJ was set up, dressed and organizing his supplies and his laptop in preparation for skyping with his various teachers and new classes.

Kevin made it into the dining room first and smiled in delight at the wonderful stack of new supplies. For homeschooling, most everything had been done on his old laptop which had thankfully been replaced; it had gotten so out of date.

Finally, Bucky seemed satisfied with the items he’d brought out and began putting the supplies into each of the kid’s backpacks. He opened Ava’s backpack, which she often used even during the summer to carry items around. He frowned, opening the backpack wider, “Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve looked over from the kitchen where he put Ava’s lunch in a cooler-bag for her.

“Um . . . can - - can you come here, please?” Bucky asked.

Nodding, Steve walked in, carrying the lunch for Bucky to put in the bag. “What’s wrong, baby?” He wondered at Bucky’s tone.

Bucky showed the opened backpack to his husband, showing Steve a box of condoms at the bottom, “uh . . . did you get those for her?”

“No . . .” Steve frowned, noting the box was open. “I had no clue she was . . . active yet. Think she’s seeing Freddy again?” He worried the boy had pressured Ava into something she wasn’t ready for, and she had gone along under peer pressure.

“I sure as hell hope not,” Bucky said softly, looking down at the backpack and then back up at Steve. “Should we ask her? I - - I don’t wanna ruin her first day of school?”

“Look, if she’s using them, we know she’s at least being safe, right? Let’s wait until she gets home then ask her about it, okay? Unless, of course, when she notices we packed her bag she asks us?” Steve began carefully packing the school supplies in Ava’s bag, moving the box of condoms to an inner pocket for safe storage.

Ava came down, smiling happily until she saw Steve packing her backpack, “uh . . . I - - I can do that, Steve.”

“Hope ham and cheese are okay for first day back,” Steve said, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. He closed the pack and handed it to her with a worried look and a gentle smile.

Blinking, looking wary, Ava nodded, taking the bag, “thanks . . . ham and cheese is great . . .”

“If you want to talk about anything, princess, we’re here for you. Okay?” Steve offered, not wanting her worry over his find to affect her day of school, either.

“Yeah, okay,” Ava nodded; she cleared her throat, flushing as she looked at Kevin, “ready for your first day?”

“Almost. I gotta get Avenger dressed.” Kevin offered the group a bright smile and, leaving his pack, headed out to get Avenger’s vest and leash, the dog at his side. He threw his arms around TJ and hugged him. “Meet you in class, okay, Teej?”

Smiling softly, TJ said, “yeah. See you there.”

Bucky looked at Ava; he worried about his niece being sexually active . . . she was only sixteen! He hoped she wasn’t doing it to _fit in_ or anything.

Steve put a hand on either of Ava’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. He whispered, “stay _safe_ , princess. We can talk later.” He stepped over to the doorway to watch for Kevin, giving Ava and Bucky a little time.

Bucky brought his niece into a one armed hug and kissed her temple. “I love you, Squirt.”

Hugging her uncle back, Ava nodded, “I love you, too, Uncle Bucky. Have a good day with Steve, okay?” She pulled away and headed towards the door, backpack slung over one shoulder.

As she approached, Steve, still watching out for Kevin, asked softly, “any plans after school, or coming right home?”

“Daniel asked if I’d go to the library with him?” Ava answered.

Unable to resist, Steve finally asked, “is it Freddy?”

Sighing, she shook her head, “no, I haven’t seen Freddy since that night.”

“Is it someone we know, at least, princess?” Steve didn’t push for a name, but he did look at her, his worry evident but no anger, no disappointment.

“Yeah, it’s someone you know, Steve,” Ava answered.

“As long as you’re happy, and careful . . . the box is in the side pocket inside.” He hugged her.

“Thanks, Steve,” Ava flushed and she hugged him back.

“I just hate to be reminded you’re a young woman,” he sighed. “If he, or she . . . pressures you, don’t do it. Do what you’re comfortable with, princess. You have a long life ahead for other things.”

“I _am_ , Steve, “ she insisted, “I gotta go, the bus will be here soon.”

He nodded. “Just want you to know we love you, princess. Take care. See you when you get home. Is Chicken Parmesan okay for tonight?”

“Sounds great,” she nodded, “see you later, Steve. Have a good day,” and with that she hurried out of the home, desperate to get away from the questions.

Steve looked at Bucky. “What were we to do? If we threw a fit, she’d hide it, and then we can’t be sure she’s safe, right?” Steve ran a hand over the back of his neck.

Kevin came in with Avenger, vested and leashed, and grabbed his backpack. “Ready,” he smiled at them.

Bucky nodded, smiling at his son, “alright, let’s get a move on, then, shall we?” He looked at Steve. Since the night he got lost, he hadn’t gone out by himself; Steve, Kevin or Ava were always with him.

Steve smiled and walked over to the hall table of the apartment, where there were now five little baskets set up, each with a name. It was where they could store wallets, keys, phones, and other stuff they didn’t want to misplace while in the house. Steve took his wallet and phone then the house keys. He turned. “TJ? Wanna ride along or should we get Wade?”

“Uh . . . I’ll just stay here?” TJ said from the couch, looking a little tired.

Nodding, Steve used his phone to page Wade to come keep an eye on TJ while they were dropping off Kevin. “Soon I’ll test for my license, Buck, and you can play shotgun once in awhile for me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded; he understood now why Steve should get his license and wasn’t going to argue with him about it. He went over to his basket and grabbed his things.

Kevin walked over and took his phone from his basket. “Papa, Dad, did you guys remember your morning medicine?” he asked.

“We both did,” Steve assured their son with a smile.

“Alright, let’s get going if we don’t wanna be late,” Bucky said, opening the door. “We’ll be right back, Teej,” Bucky called to the boy on the couch.

“Okay, drive safe,” TJ called back.

Steve smiled wider and headed out the door to their single car. For the time being, even with two drivers, a second car wouldn’t be needed. There was no way Steve needed to drive without Bucky. He merely wanted to be assured that there was another driver available just in case. Steve opened the back door and let Kevin and Avenger get in, Kevin sighing as he climbed into his booster seat.

Bucky slid into the car and looked back at Kevin, “you ready, Kevin?” Truth be told, he was scared for their boy to start school. He didn’t want Kevin to be bullied or anything . . . or not be there if the boy had a seizure.

“Yeah, Papa, I’m ready,” he said softly as Steve got into the seat and belted in, handing the backpack between the front seats to his son.

Nodding, Bucky started driving towards the middle school. Once they arrived, Kevin drew a deep breath and got out of the car, leading Avenger. He slipped the backpack over his shoulders and turned to look at his parents. “I’ll be okay, Papa, Dad. Just go home and enjoy no work. And take care of TJ for me.” He smiled and turned, heading into the crowd of students who took an instant interest in Avenger and the boy who looked like he should be in third grade not seventh.

Bucky watched until Kevin could no longer be seen before he pulled away from the curb, “he’ll be okay, Steve.”

Nodding, Steve said, “yeah.” His voice was as soft as Kevin’s normal tones, his eyes filled with worry for the kids.

They made it home. Once inside, Bucky released a sigh, looking around the almost empty, quiet apartment. TJ was already beginning his classes on the computer.

“You know, that detective last week was right,” Steve ventured.

“Whatcha mean, Stevie?” Bucky asked, pulling his things from his pockets to place in his basket.

Steve copied his husband, putting things in his own basket. He looked at Bucky. “We weren’t thinking about how to do little things to improve your memory. We were looking at the bigger chunks missing and the difficulties only.”

Bucky shrugged, “it made sense, though. I get it’s frustrating . . .” the brunet rubbed the back of his neck.

Nodding, Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s hips and said, “It _is_ frustrating, Bucky. I get most frustrated seeing how confused and upset _you_ get, though. I keep reminding myself that when you got hurt, when Kevin was little and not taught right, heck, even when Ava was a baby and I wasn't there yet, everyone had to learn and we all had to have patience. And you know, we were willing then? What’s so different now?” He kissed Bucky.

Humming softly against Steve’s lips, Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck, “I love you, Steve.”

“You know, when I first came back and wound up with you, I loved you. And when we moved in together, I loved you more. And when I proposed and you said yes, I thought I’d never stop loving you the way I did back then. But I was wrong, because I love you more and more each day, James Buchanan Rogers.” Steve kissed him long and deep.

“Ever tell ya, you’re a big sap, Captain,” Bucky purred softly, kissing his husband back.

“Yeah, who’d have thought the class punk would become a sap?” Steve asked on a chuckle. “And did you know, we’ve been together for eleven years, and I still love to see you in the morning, all mussed and sexy?”

“Oh, yeah, my morning breath is _very_ sexy,” Bucky snorted.

“You know, soldier, the general and admiral aren’t gonna be home for hours . . .” Steve smiled back. “But the Sergeant is watching us.” He caressed over Bucky’s ass anyway.

“Whatcha wanna do, Captain?” Bucky mewled softly, pressing closer. He knew TJ was too concentrated on the computer to really give them any attention.

“Wanna get naked?” Steve waggled his eyebrows suggestively, comically. He glanced over to TJ on the laptop with Wade next to him then back to his husband. He let his hands slide over Bucky’s ass and squeezed.

Bucky keened softly, pressing into Steve's firm body. He kissed his husband's lips passionately, nipping and pulling at Steve's bottom lip with his teeth, and his own hand traveled down the blond's back, nails dragging over the fabric of the tight shirt Steve wore. “How am I supposed to fuck you when you have all these clothes on, Cap?” Bucky purred, low and seductive. Bucky knew Steve liked to bottom as mucha s Bucky, though he often topped; they didn't switch very often, but the brunet felt like spoiling his husband.

Steve kissed Bucky fiercely at the surge of heat the suggestive, commanding tone and words brought on. “Take ‘em off me so I’m all your’s, soldier,” he moaned into Bucky’s mouth. He squeezed Bucky’s ass again then let go, long enough to back towards the hall.

It was a little clumsy but somehow Bucky managed to continue kissing his husband while they stumbled down the hall and removed Steve’s skin tight shirt, discarding it thoughtlessly as they finally made it to their room. In the room, Bucky continued to back Steve up until the blond’s legs hit the edge of the bed. With a light shove, Bucky sent his husband back onto the soft surface and immediately began stripping Steve of his shoes, socks, and pants.

Steve helped as much as he could, lifting his hips and such, as he continued kissing Bucky, gripping his shirt hem and tugging the material up and over his husband’s head. Running his hands down Bucky’s chest, Steve moaned, “so beautiful . . .” He was already filling with desire.

Bucky growled low with approval as he crawled onto the bed, over Steve. The brunet bent down and sucked one of his husband’s nipples into his mouth, biting softly then lapping at the bud. “So sexy, Stevie . . .” Bucky breathed.

Groaning, hips canting, Steve wrapped his fingers into Bucky’s curls, letting his head fall back. “God, yes . . . Buck, need ya . . .” He writhed in response to the erotic attentions.

“And you say _I’m_ the needy one,” Bucky teased softly, looking up at his husband, mouth poised over Steve’s perked nipple. Leaning back down, the brunet sucked hard on the sensitive flesh, knowing his husband liked a little pain.

A small yowl of delight escaped and Steve arched up into Bucky's mouth, his sensitive nipple peaking immediately under the ministrations.

Pulling off, Bucky gave his husband a wicked smile before sitting up on his knees, straddling Steve’s waist, and reaching over to the nightstand to grab the lube the blond preferred to use. Setting the bottle down within easy reach, Bucky bent back down, ghosting his mouth over his husband’s skin as he moved down until he reached the waistband of Steve’s briefs.

Panting, Steve arched again and whimpered, “you . . . got . . . too . . . much . . .” He whimpered, losing his concentration.

Smirking, licking a stripe up from the hem of Steve’s underwear to his navel, Bucky looked up from under his lashes, “what was that, Stevie?”

“Clothes . . .” Steve moaned, squirming a bit, hands stroking through his husband’s soft hair, “you . . . clothes . . .” His hips canted and he whimpered, eyes darkening.

“You want my clothes off, Cap?” Bucky purred, moving back down to kiss and then dart his tongue into Steve’s navel, his hand moving down to play with the hem of Steve’s briefs.

“Please?” Steve whimpered in response. He tugged lightly on Bucky’s curls. His cock strained in his boxers, the head peeking up and already leaking drops of precum.

Moaning softly at the slight burn of his hair being pulled, Bucky nodded. He finished stripping his husband, letting his fingers brush over Steve’s needy erection before working on his own lower half. “Ya gonna help me, Cap? Or am I gonna hafta do all the work?”

Steve immediately let go of Bucky’s hair and reached down to drag the other man up into a deep kiss, whining into his mouth. Dropping his hands, Steve fumbled at Bucky’s jeans, tugging them open then pushing at them, fingers pushing his husband’s drawers down, too.

Groaning, Bucky pulled away only to finish sliding the pants and underwear down his legs, pulling them off with his shoes. “Look at you, Stevie. So pretty all needy and whiny for me,” Bucky growled low before crashing his lips back onto his husband’s, immediately slipping his tongue into Steve’s mouth; he ground down against the blond’s cock, the friction causing Bucky to moan into Steve’s mouth.

Whimpering again, Steve rocked his hips up so his erection roughly slid against Bucky’s body. He brought his hands up and around Bucky to let his nails scratch lightly down Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Buck . . .” he began panting, “Bucky . . . need . . . love . . . God . . .” He whined again.

“I gotcha, Stevie . . .” Bucky breathed; he sat back up and flicked open the lube. Awkwardly, the brunet tried to coat his fingers.

Steve reached over and grabbed the lube from his husband, kissing him as he coated Bucky’s hand liberally then started massaging the lube over and around Bucky’s member. “Mine,” he groaned, ending on a small whine.

Groaning, Bucky nodded, “yes, Steve . . . ‘m your’s,” the brunet reached down between Steve’s legs to carefully begin massaging Steve’s entrance. Steve’s hands on his cock made it extremely hard not to rush things, but he didn’t want to hurt his husband, so he forced himself to take a few steadying breaths before slowly pushing into that tight heat. Bucky stopped at the first knuckle, continuing to massage the tight muscle.

Breathing, still whimpering, Steve kept still with difficulty, letting his husband work him open. He rarely bottomed, though he loved it, so he knew Bucky had to take his time, despite how much he wanted his husband to fill him and pound him into the mattress. “Buck . . .” he moaned low, reaching down to give his husband a stroke or two as encouragement.

Keening, Bucky slipped his finger in a little deeper, to the second knuckle. He held still for a few moments before working it around to stretch open Steve’s passage.

“Yes, baby . . . right . . . there . . . “ Steve moaned, despite the fact that Bucky did nothing more than caress and stretch him. Steve loved his husband’s long-fingered hands on and in him.

Minutes passed before Bucky was finally able to bottom out, his palm pressing against Steve’s ass. The brunet continued to work his finger in and around the tight passage, slowly working his husband open. “So pretty, Steve . . . always been so pretty . . .” after another minute, Bucky watched Steve’s face as he carefully pressed a second finger to Steve’s entrance, massaging and caressing that ring of muscle.

Keening, Steve forced himself to relax, though he wanted more and his body felt like it was too much at the same time. He looked at Bucky, dark eyes following his husband’s every expression, and whimpered, “ready, baby . . .” Steve concentrated on relaxing under Bucky’s searching massaging touch.

Bucky slowly, as slowly as the first digit, worked in the second digit, scissoring and wriggling his fingers gently in his husband’s passage. The brunet smirked and curled his fingers to brush over Steve’s prostate.

Eyes closing, Steve let out a low keen and his entire body spasmed then stilled, a smile spreading over his face. It was as if his body finally got the message and began working with Bucky instead of against him. He opened black-blown eyes and reached over to stroke Bucky a couple more times, growling softly “yeah . . . ready . . . more, baby . . .”

“You want more, Stevie?” Bucky looked a little surprised; he began to thrust his fingers shallowly in and out, scissoring and stroking at Steve’s prostate every once in awhile.

At each thrust, Steve let out a small whine, eyes still locked on Bucky’s face. As his sensitive prostate was struck, the whine turned to a growl of sheer pleasure then back to the needy whines. “Mine,” he grunted, “you . . . mine . . .”

“Yeah, Stevie, ‘m your’s,” Bucky promised breathlessly. After another few minutes of thrusting, the brunet added a third finger just as carefully as the first two. Bucky had always been a caring and attentive lover when he topped. He curled the three fingers to press against Steve’s prostate before bottoming out again.

Pressing his head back into the pillow at the glorious stimulation, Steve finally broke eye contact. Instead, his eyes drifted shut and he whimpered then fell silent. With how still his body became it would seem he’d fallen unconscious, but after their long years together, Bucky knew what was coming next. Suddenly, just as his husband bottomed out his hand, Steve’s eyes opened and he shouted, cumming, though not long or much. It was almsot like he had a pre-ejactulation. Panting, he keened again, “God, Buck . . . yes . . .” he moaned, knowing his body would be able to handle so much more.

“There ya go, Stevie,” Bucky moaned, leaning down to lap at some of the cum that had striped Steve’s abdomen. “Taste so good, Steve,” Bucky groaned, thrusting his three fingers in and out of Steve’s passage, opening his fingers to stretch his husband open wider.

Steve began to lightly thrust to meet his husband’s strokes, reaching one hand over to drag Bucky up into a deep, sloppy kiss, teeth clashing a bit as he thrust his tongue into his husband’s mouth. His other hand gripped at Bucky’s back, fingers massaging hard into the flesh, bruising lightly.

Mewling into the desperate kiss, Bucky added a fourth finger; trying to continue the kiss, the brunet struggled to keep his balance. His only hand buried deep in Steve’s ass, Bucky practically lay on top of Steve. “H - - How ya wanna . . . do this, Stevie . . . how ya wanna be?” Bucky breathed into Steve’s mouth.

“Take . . . like . . . this . . . babe . . .” Steve panted and whimpered, canting his hips to further chase that gloriously full feeling. “Hard . . .”

Nodding, Bucky withdrew his fingers after another couple minutes. The brunet had to push up slightly to line himself up; when his cockhead pushed against Steve’s entrance, Bucky moved his hand to brace against the bed near Steve’s shoulder.

Steve, as if sensing his husband’s difficulty with balance, held still, his hands going to Bucky’s waist to hold him fairly steady. “Gotcha . . . love . . .” he groaned. The feeling of pressure blossoming into a burning full slide dragged pleased whimpers from the larger man.

When Bucky bottomed out, he growled low, letting Steve adjust to the fullness. The brunet leaned down to capture his husband’s lips in a lust-driven kiss. He didn’t top very often, so, Steve’s tight walls completely surrounding him always felt so good.

Steve continued to hold still for Bucky, knowing in his lust-hazed that the other man would need as much time to adjust to the rare and wonderful sensations as he did. After several long moments of merely holding completely still, breathing deep, and letting his body accommodate Bucky’s length and breadth, Steve indicated his own readiness by letting out a soft moan. When Bucky was ready, he’d signal back and they’d begin to match rhythms. One thing to be said for years as lovers, they had communication down to an art.

With an answering growl, Bucky pulled out, brushing against Steve’s prostate on the way, until only his tip remained in his husband’s passage. With a snap of his hips, Bucky buried himself again, balls deep. He set the hard, rough pace that his husband so desperately craved, pounding into the blond’s prostate every third or fourth stroke.

Grunting with each thrust, Steve stayed still for a few more moments, enjoying the feeling of dominant power Bucky drove into him. After a bit, though, Steve loss his patience and began thrusting up, meeting Bucky’s hard, punishing strokes. “Love . . . ya . . . Buck . . .” Steve kept his hands on Bucky’s hips as support, but his mouth moved to nip at his husband’s slender neck, lapping and nipping lightly in time with their movements.

Keening, Bucky continued pounding into his husband, panting, “love . . . you . . . too . . .” the brunet gripped at the comforter, his knuckles white as he, with the help of Steve, held himself up.

Carefully, Steve maneuvered his right hand off his husband’s hip, still balancing Bucky’s weight and counterbalanced by Bucky’s left hand on the bed. Bringing his hand around, Steve gripped his own erection to begin stroking to his husband’s punishing rhythm, grunting and moaning and keening, kissing and nipping. “Mine . . . Buck . . . mine . . . good . . . yes . . .” he babbled. When Steve began babbling like that, he was moments from orgasm, but his mind and body were too far gone to consciously think about that. His husband was filling him hard and deep, and Steve chased release.

Growling low, Bucky picked up the pace, pounding hard and angling his thrusts to nail Steve’s prostate every single time.

“Buck . . . Buck . . . Buck . . .” Steve began to mindlessly chant, his eyes closing as his hips canted harshly, losing the rhythm, stuttering in response to the continual stimulation. “Bucky!” Steve screamed, loudly, his body seeming to spasm as he came, shooting hot rope after rope of thick white cum all over their bellies and chests. His muscles clamped around Bucky’s member and Steve had to forcibly try to relax so he wouldn’t hurt his lover.

Several moments later, Bucky followed his husband over the edge, mewling low as he buried himself deeply once more. He keened as he came, painting his husband’s walls with thick, hot ropes of cum. Bucky continued to gently thrust, riding out his orgasm.

Steve smiled, pure bliss across his features and in his almost totally blackened eyes, his pupils had blown so wide. He wrapped his arms carefully around Bucky and held him, panting, sweaty, sticky, and oh so beautiful. Softly, Steve began kissing his husband’s neck, his mouth, his eyelids, and any other place Steve could easily reach without making Bucky leave his body. “I love . . . my Bucky . . .” he panted between loving kisses.

Quivering, Bucky’s right arm gave out, making him fall completely on top of his husband. The brunet mewled softly, nuzzling against his husband’s neck, “I love you . . . too, Stevie . . .”

Steve lifted a hand to stroke Bucky’s hair from his forehead, smiling. “Heya, soldier,” he breathed raggedly, “gotta do . . . this again . . . real soon.” He spread more kisses on his husband’s beloved face.

“Gimme a moment . . .” Bucky panted; it was amazing how fast Steve could recover from an orgasm and be ready for another round. Bucky could never hope to achieve as many orgasms as Steve did in a single sitting. Steve had been able to milk three out of him one time . . . then Bucky slept for nearly twelve hours afterwards.

Chuckling, Steve said, “rest, first.” He kissed Bucky’s forehead and continued to stroke his hair. Brock had managed to train him up to being able to sustain long enough for multiple orgasms, but Bucky never pressed him to his limits, which had been five in one night. Steve was thankful, actually, as two or three was comfortable, more strained him to a sensitivity he didn’t care for, a feeling of being high and out of control, of being too vulnerable. But, Steve did love that Bucky wanted to give him pleasure. He wanted to pleasure Bucky in return. “Love my husband, ya know,” he sighed, breathing coming under control once more.

Nuzzling again, Bucky shifted so he wasn’t completely lying on top of Steve but was pressed firmly to his husband’s side, head resting on Steve’s firm chest. “Love . . . ya . . .” Bucky managed to murmur before his eyes slipped shut and he fell asleep.

Steve encircled his husband in strong arms and smiled. He dropped one last kiss on his sleeping lover’s head and whispered, “not as much as I love you.”

**************

An hour later, washed and rested, leaving Bucky to nap, Steve walked out and smiled his thanks at Wade. “How’s the class so far, TJ?” Steve asked quietly as he noted TJ and the rest of the class was on break.

TJ looked over and gave Steve a small smile, “it’s okay . . . “ the laptop was sitting on the coffee table and the boy sat crossed-legged on the couch.

Steve sank down next to the boy and glanced at the screen. “Math, huh? You like math? Bucky’s good at math. I’m more of a history guy.”

Scrunching his nose, TJ shook his head, “no . . . I don’t like math very much. Dougie liked math and science. I . . . I’ve never,” he looked at his screen and lowered his voice so just Steve could hear him, “never really liked school very much.”

Softly Steve asked, “did Dougie like school?” He wanted TJ to know it was okay to talk about his family, to miss them.

Nodding, TJ answered, “he liked it a lot. He was good at it, too. Better than me. I’m not . . . won’t be as smart as Dougie ever was.”

Nodding, Steve said, “but you’re still smart, even if you aren’t as smart as Dougie.” He smiled and gave the boy a hug. “I bet he’s proud of how you keep going, though.”

TJ shrugged one shoulder, “I don’t know. I just feel tired most the time.”

“Well, that’s better than always sick, right?” Steve stood and stretched. “Looks like the teacher’s back. I’ll let you get back to class without looking like you’ve got someone watching over your shoulder. Call me if you need anything. I’m home all day.”

“Okay,” TJ grabbed the laptop and pulled it back to his lap.

Steve headed to the kitchen, passing Wade and touching his shoulder lightly as a signal to follow. Once in the small kitchenette, Steve smiled. “Thanks for helping us out and letting me have some alone time with my husband. You’re a good friend, Wade.”

“No problem,” Wade grinned, looking over his shoulder at TJ and then back at Steve, “seems like a good kid. Quiet. Hard to believe he came from a political family.”

Nodding, Steve raised his voice as if he didn’t know he had, letting TJ hear his reply, “yeah, he’s one of the best kids I know. Brave and strong. I’m proud to have TJ here. I love him a lot.” He grinned at Wade and opened the fridge, lowering his voice back down again. “Want something to drink? Sorry, no alcohol.”

“I’m actually good, thanks,” Wade said.

**************

Several hours later, when it was close to time to leave to get Kevin, Steve’s phone rang. Steve, smiling and, still thrumming even after all that time, walked over and picked it up. As he listened, his eyes opened wider and he said, “okay, Kevin, slow down.”

Bucky, who sat at the island, looked up with a worried frown. TJ, who’d already shut down his laptop for the day, looked over at Steve, looking nearly as worried as Bucky.

“Okay, we’re coming to get you. Yes, we’ll talk when we get there, okay?” Steve paused a moment then said, “I love you, too.” He hung up and ran a hand through his hair then over the back of his neck.

“What was that about?” Bucky asked, standing up.

“Kevin made a friend, but he was too excited to be real clear. Something about someone trying to pick on Avenger and a new friend. That’s all I got. He wants us to meet the kid.” Steve looked at Bucky, frowning a bit as he wondered if the tormentor had been after Avenger or really after Kevin. “TJ, wanna come meet Kevin’s new friend?”

“That’s good, right?” Bucky asked cautiously, “we wanted him to make friends.”

“Friends are great, Buck. That’s not what worries me. It’s the idea someone tried to hurt his dog . . . or maybe him . . .” Steve frowned and headed for the front door. “We’ve gotta go, babe, and get our other boy.” He began emptying his basket into his pockets.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, he walked towards the front door and was just about to open the door when he remembered his own basket. He turned and grabbed his things before heading out.

TJ, who still frowned softly, slowly moved off the couch to grab Malakai’s vest and leash before turning to walk towards the adults.

Steve smiled proudly and followed, securing the apartment then bending to look in the back seat. “Should we hide the booster seat? I don’t want Kevin unsafe, but his friend might . . .” he asked, worriedly.

“Yeah, might be a good idea,” Bucky nodded, slipping into the driver’s seat.

Nodding Steve took out the seat required for children under ninety pounds and stashed it in the trunk. They could put it back once the kid left. Steve helped TJ get settled in the back with the dog then climbed into the front seat and smiled at Bucky, fastening his own seatbelt. “Ready to meet Kevin’s first friend?”

In the backseat, TJ’s frown deepened more but he looked out the window and the expression quickly faded away.

“Let’s hope he has a better choice in friends than Ava does . . . aside from Daniel,” Bucky sighed and started the car, easing out of the driveway.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered, “Daniel’s a great kid. He’s really responsible and they’ve been friends for ages.”

“Yeah, Daniel’s fine, all her other little friends leave a lot to be desired,” Bucky answered.

“What I worry about is who she’s having sex with. Will he treat her right?” Steve sighed, frowning out the window. He kept his directions to himself unless Bucky seemed stuck, letting his husband remember on his own if he could.

“Sixteen is _so young_ ,” Bucky frowned.

“I know,” Steve groaned and turned to his husband. “I would have liked her to wait until she graduated at least. But, if the box is any proof, at least she takes her safety seriously?”

“Well, with how things have been going . . . Ava wouldn’t have responded to any rules we’d place on sex,” Bucky sighed, looking worried.

“No, you remember that right, Buck,” Steve sighed back. “She’s been rebelling since the summer began, actually.”

“I don’t . . .” Bucky released a breath, shaking his head, looking a little sad, “I’ve been trying this last week to make things easier on her . . . but - - she is still treating me weird? I don’t know . . . maybe I’m being sensitive . . .”

Nodding, Steve said, “she’s treating you weird because of your post traumatic, the memory loss, and her rebellious nature. She wants to strike out, like we did, but she feels bad for doing it, since you aren’t well. Add to that her concern for Kevin, and Ava doesn’t know how to act. She’s a scared little girl in a woman’s body trying to understand her world.” Steve laid his hand on Bucky’s knee. “But I think it’s great you let her get a job for the weekends. It might help.”

“What?” Bucky looked at Steve, eyes wide, “what job? Do not tell me it’s for Wilson Fisk.”

Nodding, frowning, Steve said, “I was surprised you agreed, too, Buck, but she had the paperwork and everything. Said you agreed as long as it was only local and only on weekends.”

“I _didn’t_. I would never let her work for that creepy man!” Bucky sounded a mix between angry and terrified. “I told her, after he called, that she couldn’t work for him. That’d I’d _consider_ seeing if Clint and Natasha would give her some hours on the weekend.”

Steve froze, blue eyes wide and very hurt. Slowly, anger seemed to build, but not uncontrollable anger; Steve never got angry enough to repeat that time six years before when he’d stormed out of the house. “She lied to me?” Steve turned to look at Bucky and softly, in a way more scary than any shoulting would be, said “she told me you forgot to sign the papers . . . she _used you_ to get that job and _lied_ to me?”

“You need to call Fisk, right now, and tell him that she can’t work for him,” Bucky said firmly, a swarm of bad emotions building in him. Anger, betrayal, hurt . . . who had Ava become, to use his illness like that to get what she wanted? To lie to Steve? Bucky didn’t even know his niece anymore.

Nodding, Steve pulled out his cell phone. He dialled Fisk’s number.

“Steve, how are you?” Fisk’s voice answered.

“I am well, thank you, Senator Fisk,” Steve recalled his manners despite his quiet, almost too calm tone. “And how are you, sir?”

“I am doing well,” Fisk reported, “what is it you need, Steve? More paints?”

“To put it very bluntly, Ava used Bucky’s memory loss to lie to me. I signed the work papers thinking he’d agreed to let her work. However, Bucky and I have agreed that her lies mean she’s not mature enough to get an outside job at this time, so we would like to withdrawal. Ava is not permitted to work at this time. I am sorry to put you out, but surely you can see that bad behavior and lies shouldn’t be rewarded, Senator.” Steve’s eyes flickered to Bucky’s face.

Bucky’s eyes flickered over to look at Steve, frowning fiercely.

“Yes, I understand completely, it is a shame she felt the need to lie. Consider her terminated, Steve, I am sorry about the misunderstanding. Though,” Fisk took a breath, “I do have her on a job for me right now, actually.”

“Right now? It’s school hours, Mr. Fisk. She’s supposed to be in school.” Steve couldn’t believe how the lies piled up. A weekend job? It was apparently more than that.

“My apologies, Steve, she told me her last period of the day was free . . . I can send a driver for her, if you want?” Fisk offered.

“No, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you further. Let her finish the delivery, sir, and then please tell her she is no longer employed? I would appreciate her being brought directly home, if that’s convenient?” Steve said, still watching Bucky.

Bucky didn’t look happy, hand wrapped tightly on the steering wheel as he stared out the windshield, jaw clenched.

Fisk agreed, “yes, that can be arranged. I will make sure she is delivered home as soon as she is finished.”

“Mr. Fisk, I mean no insult by asking, and please take it in context of a worried father and not the accusation this may sound, but do you know if she’s working as . . . a call girl for someone?” Steve’s voice sounded worried.

“Certainly not for me,” Fisk answered promptly.

Steve rushed to reassure the man, not wanting to insult him. “No, I know you don’t delve into prostitution, but I thought perhaps you might have heard something?”

“I have not heard anything, I am sorry,” Fisk answered.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Fisk, for your honesty and your understanding. On a better note, _Sunrise_ will be done by this Friday,” Steve offered, knowing he’d be working all day for the next few days to finish it. He wanted to cut family ties with the man as cleanly as possible.

“That is certainly good news,” Fisk sounded pleased, “I cannot wait to see the finished product. I am sorry, Steve, but I must go. I will make sure Ava is home safe.”

“Yes, thank you so much for your time, sir. And please, have a good day.” Steve waited until Fisk gave a polite goodbye then hung up. “Well,” he sighed and looked back up from his phone to Bucky. “He says he doesn’t know if she’s working as a call girl, but she told him she had a free period to make a drop off. She’s working as a courier for him. When the run is done, he’ll bring her home and terminate her employment.”

Bucky nodded, still staring angrily out at the road.

“Turn left, Bucky,” Steve said softly.

Doing as he was told, Bucky pulled up into the pickup area at the middle school and parked the car. “Un- _fucking_ -believable,” Bucky snapped, shaking his head and looking furious. “Sorry, TJ,” Bucky murmured, glancing in the mirror to look at the quiet twelve year old and then back to Steve.

“When she gets home, I can ask for her schedule and post it. I can let the teachers know that all free periods should be spent either in the school library or the school office, helping out as a social job, which she needs to sign in and out to prove she did it. She’s not allowed to visit friends outside of the house, even Daniel. All friends must come to us and leave by eight. She has to sit with them at the dining room table to study or in the living room to socialize.” Steve fell silent, trying to think of more ways to keep track of her without limiting her so much she ran away.

“She _used me_ to lie _to you_ , Steve! She’s just like her mother!” Bucky growled, his hand shook and he gripped the steering wheel to steady it. 

“I know, Bucky,” Steve didn’t argue that using and lying weren’t in the same class as deliberate arson and attempted murder. That wasn’t what Bucky meant. Steve squeezed Bucky’s thigh lightly. “I’m not sure how to punish her that will sink in the seriousness and breach of trust . . .”

“Take her phone . . . or at least restrict it so she can only contact a few people. I’m half tempted to pull her out of school and homeschool her! What the hell happened to her, Steve? I - - I don’t even _know her_ anymore! This is not the girl we raised!” Bucky looked over at Steve, pain and misery in his pale eyes.

“You have that certificate for homeschooling K to 12, Bucky. I agree we can use it. Stop the free phone usage and pull her out to home school until we can trust her?” Steve agreed with Bucky’s ideas. He didn’t recognize the sweet little girl in this rebellious, conniving teen, either. She was slipping away so quickly, and it terrified Steve that Kevin, someday, would do the same thing. Softly, he asked, “should we homeschool Kevin, too?”

“I - - I don’t know . . .” Bucky leaned forward and rested his head on the wheel, “I tried, Steve . . . we tried so hard not to push . . . let her have her freedom.” The brunet sounded defeated.

Sighing, Steve nodded, “much more than I had as a kid.”

A soft knock on Steve’s window interrupted the pair, and Steve whirled around to see Kevin, smiling and waving at them, another boy behind him.

Looking up, Bucky groaned, “son of a bitch . . . please don’t tell me that’s the friend . . .” sighing again, Bucky looked back at TJ, “sorry . . .”

Standing next to Kevin, about the size of what a normal seventh grader would be, was a tall black haired boy. The boy had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn-looking blue jeans and he nervously scuffed the toe of his beat-up sneakers on the pavement. The boy, for only being Kevin’s age, looked rough around the edges; his brown eyes looked as if they’d seen too much for such a young age.

Steve slid out of his belt then opened the door and got out, offering a strained smile. “Hey, Kevin,” he pulled his son into a hug, which Kevin willingly accepted and returned. He smiled at the boy. “I hear you gave Kevin some help with Avenger?” Steve offered his hand.

Warily, the boy withdrew one hand from a pocket to shake Steve’s offered hand quickly before stuffing his own back in his pocket, “yeah . . .”

“I’m Steve Rogers. This is my husband, Bucky Rogers. This is TJ. And what should we call you?” Steve tried again, worried over the kid’s reticence but not surprised by it.

“Julian,” the boy answered, not giving a last name. Julian looked at Bucky, who’d walked over while they’d been shaking hands. The boy’s eyes caught on the empty t-shirt sleeve but then quickly moved on.

Kevin opened the back door and hesitated. He glanced at his parents. “Can Julian come over to do homework and play?” He eyed the area where his booster normally sat but then grinned at the sight of TJ, his eyes lighting up. “My TJ!”

TJ offered Kevin a small wave and a smile. Malakai barked happily at the small blond boy, tail wagging.

“Heya, Malakai! Good boy!” Kevin began letting Avenger into the car.

“Uh . . .” Bucky frowned, looking at Kevin, “I’m ‘fraid not today, Tiger. We have a little family emergency to handle tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

Nodding, as if he understood completely, Kevin replied, “Ava’s box, I guess. Okay.” He turned and grinned at Julian. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We can play at recess?”

“I’ll be here,” Julian nodded, giving Kevin a small smile and wave, “see ya later, Kevin.”

“And I’ll bring something for you to eat,” Kevin called with a wave, climbing into the car, not thinking about how what he said might have sounded to his parents.

Frowning, Bucky sighed.

“Thanks again for helping Kevin and Avenger, Julian. He’ll be back tomorrow,” Steve said, smiling at the boy, wanting to pull him in and feed him, protect him.

“Yup, no problem, see ya around,” Julian nodded at both Steve and Bucky and then turned. He began walking in the opposite direction, hands still stuffed in his jean pockets.

Steve looked at Bucky then went around to the trunk and pulled out the booster, handing it in to Kevin, who nodded and silently hooked it up so he could belt himself in safely. Sighing, glancing again at his husband, Steve sat down in his seat and belted in, shutting the door and waiting.

Bucky got in and started the car; the brunet didn’t look any less angry or worried but he forced a smile on his face as he looked at Kevin in the rearview mirror, “how was your first day?” Bucky pulled away from the curb.

“It was interesting. I knew everything the teacher talked about, but that’s okay. I was able to help Julian with his math. And Avenger liked it. He lay down most of the day.” Kevin grinned.

“Julian seems . . . nice,” Bucky said, still smiling, not wanting to spoil Kevin’s good mood.

“He’s not real nice when you first meet him, but he won’t let the others pick on the little guys like me. There’s two other little guys, Timmy and Bob. Julian caught someone trying to pull Avenger’s tail during recess and pushed him away. That’s when I knew me and Julian are friends. He doesn’t bring lunch ‘cause his Mom’s too tired to make it, he says. So, I’ll bring him lunch, okay?” Kevin was talking enthusiastically, seeming even more alive and vibrant than before he’d gone to school. Kevin always thrived around people.

TJ looked down at his lap, his fingers tapping against his thighs; the boy didn’t say anything.

Bucky shot a worried glance to his husband before looking back at the road. “That’s nice that he helped Avenger and the little guys. And, sure thing, Tiger, you can bring Julian a lunch . . . that’s very nice of you.”

Steve nodded, worrying about the way Kevin described Julian.Should they call child services to intervene with a kid whose mother didn’t provide for lunch? And didn’t the school have some kind of lunch program for needy families? He asked, “what does Julian’s mother do for work, Kevin?”

Kevin shrugged. “I told him that Papa runs a bookstore and you, Dad, paint. I told him my best friend in the whole world plays piano and has a service dog, just like me. He said his mother sleeps for money and his dad’s in jail.” Kevin smiled at TJ.

TJ’s lips quirked in a small smile as he glanced at Kevin.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at Steve again.

Pain flickered over Steve’s face and he nodded. “Okay, Kevin. Why don’t you tell us what kind of homework you got assigned? You have to write about your summer vacation or something?”


	12. Defiance and Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Teen attitude and anxiety, punishment and shock**

When Bucky pulled up to the clinic, he felt slightly surprised to see an unknown SUV sitting in front of the clinic. As soon as they pulled into the driveway, the SUV left. Parking the car, Bucky sighed, knowing that the unknown car most likely belonged to one of Fisk’s men who’d dropped off Ava.

Getting out of the car, Steve said, “Kevin, go inside and get dressed in play clothes then do your homework . . . in your room, please. TJ, you guys can work together since you’re in all the same classes. We’ve got to have a private talk with Ava for a bit.”

Nodding, Kevin said, “Ava was going to go to the library after school, remember, Dad?”

“She’s home,” Steve said, voice definite.

Bucky locked the car, entered the clinic, and headed down the corridor towards the apartment. He unlocked and opened the door.

The others followed Bucky, and Kevin and TJ emptied their pockets into their baskets then headed into their room with their dogs. Steve reached into Ava’s basket and took out her wallet and keys, noting the phone was not there. He walked to the dining room table and laid her stuff down in front of him on the table then pulled out his phone to call her.

Ava walked down the hall; when she reached the living, she looked at both Steve and Bucky, arms crossed defiantly.

Steve slipped his phone back in his pocket and held out his hand, without a word.

“You got me fired?” Ava narrowed her eyes at Steve.

“Yes,” he answered. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” She countered.

“Because we paid for it and the bills,” Steve answered, hand still held out, “and you have lost phone privileges.”

Knowing the phone was a losing battle, she sighed and handed over the device.

Nodding, Steve put it in the pile of her things then gestured to a chair between him and where Bucky would normally sit. “Have a seat. Let’s talk, Ava.”

“What is there to _talk_ about?” Ava challenged, her tone snappy.

“I thought, before we pass judgement, you’d like to explain your actions and decisions. However, if you’d rather not, we can just tell you a punishment for what we _perceive_ happened?” Steve challenged back.

“It’s not like you guys would listen anyway. And it doesn’t matter anymore,” she crossed her arms again.

Steve stiffened. “When do I _not_ listen to you, Ava?” he asked, sounding offended. “And it should always matter how you are perceived, what you decided to do, and why.”

Ava huffed, rolling her eyes, “it doesn’t matter because I’ll still be punished, I’ll still have no job, no matter what I say.”

“It should matter to you, Ava, because as it stands, it looks like you deliberately _used_ your uncle to get something you knew was forbidden for no reason except that you don’t respect or care about us and our input as a family. I’d rather hoped that you could relieve my mind on some of those disturbing points.”

“It’s not like he’d remember if he said no or not!” Ava snapped. Bucky flinched at the harshness of the words but didn't say anything. His memory wasn’t _that_ bad, but the real point wasn’t the truth but how Ava used them.

“So that gives you the right to just make up lies about him?” Steve asked, still sounding calm, quiet, and controlled.

“Doesn’t hurt _him_ at all,” she shot back.

Sitting back, Steve asked, “do you remember when you deliberately locked Kevin in a closet?” He knew she’d probably recall that, as well as the fact that Kevin still had trouble in closets though he sometimes went into them on his own.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this,” she narrowed her eyes.

“I asked if you remember?” Steve asked, firmly.

“Yeah, I recall,” she said.

“Do you remember saying he was only around to cause trouble?” Steve asked. He knew the wording wasn’t precise but was close enough to maybe feel familiar.

“I guess,” she shrugged.

Nodding, Steve asked, “and do you remember when you were so mad about your Uncle not letting you see your Mom that you said you were glad Kevin got sick.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ava insisted.

“Are you sure?” Steve leaned forward, just as insistent. “You were so very angry and hurt and were so mad at Kevin for being in the way.”

“I don’t know . . .” She said, looking a little confused.

Nodding, Steve sat back. “It never happened, Ava, you’re right. But see how easy it can be to twist it? To ruin someone’s name? To make them doubt themselves and worry about what else they might have done or said? With each lie about the words or actions, they feel worse and less secure.” He waited to see how that would affect her.

Only a small flicker of guilt passed through her eyes before it was covered with her normal anger.

“So, you twisted and took advantage to get a job. Why did you need the job, Ava?” Steve asked.

“What does it matter? I don’t have it anymore,” she snapped.

“It matters because you were willing to hurt and use your uncle to get that job. It must have been important enough to risk family, hurt family, to get it. Was it the money? Was it something else? Why did you need a job so badly you risked tearing your family apart for it?” Steve ground out.

“Because, I was doing it for me! I wanted the job and I knew that Uncle Bucky was never going to sign! He hates Senator Fisk, so he’d never let me work for him!” She threw her hands in the air, anger in her tone.

Steve looked directly at her. “Did your uncle offer to get you a different job?”

“He said he’d _consider_ it, but he’d forget that, too, like he forgets everything else,” she explained; she looked at her uncle, who’d remained uncharacteristically silent this whole time, simply watching the other two go back and forth. Bucky’s jaw was set, arms crossed, but his pale eyes were pained, miserable, so very betrayed.

“So, instead of coming to me and asking me to intercede on your behalf, to remind Bucky of his words and to help you get the job, you decided to lie to me and say he claimed you could have the job but forgot to sign the papers?” Steve frowned. He hated how Ava seemed convinced that Bucky’s memory problems were so severe that the man would forget _everything_.

“I didn’t think it’d matter,” she admitted honestly, “I got you to sign.”

Nodding, Steve asked, “was it the _specific_ job, Ava? Was that the lure to lie?”

“I needed the job!” Ava shouted, “I needed it and now it’s gone!”

“Calm down. We’re talking, not shouting, about this. I’m trying to find out why you needed that _specific_ job or if _any_ job would work,” Steve pointed out, not meeting the emotional outburst with his own immense anger and hurt. He remained calm.

“We just needed the money,” Ava admitted.

Nodding, Steve said, “how much money, Ava?”

“I don’t know . . . a lot?” She answered.

“Why do you need a lot of money, Ava? Gambling? Drugs? Spending? Help me out here to understand,” Steve asked.

“I’m pregnant,” she answered quietly, eyes falling to the floor.

“Oh, Ava, baby,” Steve breathed out, stunned at the words. He got up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open; he froze, unable to move as the words sunk in. Ava was pregnant.

“We just needed the money . . .” she repeated softly, eyes brimming with tears.

“Baby, talk to me. Did you want the money to run away? Get an abortion? What, sweetie?” Steve softened his voice, still hugging her.

“I don’t know! We hadn’t decided yet . . .” Ava admitted brokenly.

Nodding, Steve asked, “do you love each other or were you just fooling around and this happened, sweetie?” he didn’t ask the identity of the boy, yet, wanting Ava to know _she_ was their concern right then.

“I - - I love _him_ , I don't know if he loves me . . .” She sighed and wrapped her arms around Steve, all her anger, all her viciousness seeping out of her as her adoptive father comforted her. She had found out a little over a week before and had been keeping the terrifying news to herself . . . and when Mr. Fisk called about the job, all she saw was a way to get money without Steve or Bucky finding out about her pregnancy. She hadn’t decided what she wanted to do with the baby yet, but knew she needed money either way.

Continuing to hold the girl, letting her get out her emotions, to feel the security he offered, Steve stroked her dark curls. He lifted his eyes to meet Bucky’s. They still had to address her using Bucky’s illness against him, and her lying to Steve, but right now, helping her through her own, very serious, problem was important. As well, by offering her aid, she might see that her negative behavior was never necessary; the example might go a long way to proving to her that her own actions, hurtful, disrespectful, and disgusting, had been so very wrong. Her punishment could come afterwards. For now, Steve intended to make sure Ava got the medical attention and psychological support she needed. Sixteen and pregnant; Steve ached for the frightened girl in his arms.

Bucky watched Steve and Ava silently, unsure of what to say or do that could comfort his niece. He met his husband's eyes, reflecting Steve's worry and fear for their adoptive daughter. Everything seemed to be happening all at once and Bucky felt so utterly helpless to do anything about it . . . there was _nothing_ he could do to ease Kevin's seizures, TJ’s tumor, Steve's fatigue or, now, Ava's pregnancy at such a young age. He wanted to take all of Ava's pain, her fear . . . he hated seeing her hurting and so very scared.

Steve tilted Ava’s head up and said, softly, “Ava, does the boy know about the baby, princess?”

Sniffling softly, Ava nodded, “yeah . . . he's the one that told me to get a pregnancy test when I wasn't feeling too good.”

Nodding, Steve asked, “would you like to see a doctor to get this confirmed? We can find out how far along you are and get you the prenatal care you both need.” He kept his voice gentle and calm, offering support.

She nodded, “yeah . . . Steve, I'm scared . . .”

“Of course you are, sweetheart. Every mother is scared, even if they’ve had half a dozen kids and are in their thirties.” He cuddled again. “I think we can understand your desperation, princess, but I wish you felt you could trust us enough that you hadn’t needed to do something like lie and use your uncle, who loves you very much.” He lifted her chin again, “so, as unfair as it’ll sound, you’re still getting a punishment, but once you think about it, I think you might see the logic behind it. We’re going to homeschool you for the rest of the year, until after the baby is born, and help you decide how to continue your education after the birth, okay?”

Her eyes widened and she looked between her uncle and Steve. Ava frowned softly as she looked back at the blond then nodded.

Steve added, “and, we’re going to insist that this man you love come and help you study over here, princess. I want to get to know him and make sure he’ll be good to you both.”

“You already know him,” she offered quietly.

“That should make it easier to bring him over, unless we banned him?” Steve prompted. “Would you like to tell us who you’re in love with, princess?”

“It’s Daniel,” she said, barely over a whisper.

Steve felt relief and a bit of disbelief at the revelation. Daniel had always been a good kid with a real helpful streak, but he hadn’t seemed to show that much interest in furthering the childhood friendship he’d developed with Ava beyond light flirting. Steve finally stood and moved back to his seat. He picked up Ava’s phone and offered it to Bucky. “Bucky? Would you like to reprogram the numbers in her phone so we know who's being called?” He looked at Ava. “Specifically, Fisk. See, princess, your Uncle doesn’t trust him at all, which is how he recalled _not_ giving you permission.”

Taking the phone with a nod, just as surprised as Steve that Daniel was the father of Ava's baby, Bucky opened the phone and began to place child locks on the device, restricting the use of the phone so that only family and a few close friends could be called or texted. He also limited the use of the apps before setting it on the table with a sigh. He never liked punishing his niece, and, given the last few weeks, he felt almost guilty for doing so.

Steve looked to see their girl’s response to this part of the punishment. At least she had accepted the homeschooling and requirement for Daniel to come over to help her with homework daily; Steve hoped they could get Daniel’s family on board with that.

Ava didn't argue the phone restrictions; of course, she didn't look pleased either.

“Have you told Daniel about the baby, princess?” Steve asked softly, reaching over to stroke her hair again.

“Yeah, he's the one who told me to get the pregnancy test,” she repeated.

“I know he did,” Steve smiled, eyes worried, “but sometimes women keep these results secret. Would you like to help me make dinner now? I think we need time to absorb things and think of how to get you the best possible help and care, no matter what you choose.” He stroked again.

She nodded, “I told him,” Ava waited for Steve to stand so she could follow him into the kitchen.

Steve rose to his feet and paused, looking at the girl. He held open his arms. “We’re here for you, princess, okay? We’ll help you through this, any way you decide.”

Ava walked over and hugged Steve tightly, accepting his comfort. “Thank you,” she said shakily.

“Buck? Gonna help us cook dinner?” He tried to let his husband know that if Bucky couldn’t handle that so soon, it was fine. “Or did you want to talk to Kevin . . . maybe about his new friend, Julian?” He paused then asked, “and maybe think about talking to TJ and seeing if he wants to switch to homeschooling instead, if yu and he are up to it?” Steve hadnn’t missed the exhaustion in TJ’s eyes and body language from a full six and a half hour day, straight, despite it being over the internet.

Standing up, Bucky let out a breath and nodded, “I'll talk with Kevin and TJ . . .” as he passed, he made sure to plant a kiss on Ava's temple and give her a hug. The brunet headed down the hall towards the boys’ room.

Steve watched him go and softly said, “he’s terrified for you, princess. Whenever he looks at you, he sees every year rolled into one.”

“He didn't . . . say anything . . .” she said softly, a little shocked by her uncle's unusual silence. She had expected, when she’d finally told them about the baby, that Bucky would be very verbal about his opinions and worries. The silence scared her more than any lecture could.

Steve nodded. “He needs time to process, too, sweetheart. He went from offended and angry at being betrayed to scared and worried about his baby girl growing up and having a baby of her own.” Steve guided her into the kitchen to prepare their dinner.

“He . . . He doesn't hate me, does he?” She asked, finally seeing that what she did to both Bucky and Steve was a horrible thing to do.

“No, princess, Bucky could never hate you. But he has to come to terms with the mix of intense emotions and concepts. He’ll probably talk to you in the next couple of days about it,” Steve sighed and let her go. “I want those results to come in so we can figure out what to do,” he groaned.

“What . . . what if I have this baby and he doesn’t remember him or her?” Ava sounded a mix between terrified and worried.

“Baby books, lots of pictures, and vidoes, princess,” Steve smiled at her. “We get so much evidence to remind him that Bucky can’t possibly forget. Besides, Ava, Bucky’s memory isn’t as bad as all that. Mainly he forgets little things or has a major break when he flashes back.” It was hard to keep his own worries and fears in check for the girl, for his husband, for their family. But he knew he had to be the strong one, to hold everyone and everything together.

“I'm sorry I lied to you, Steve, I - - I didn't see another way . . .” She sounded truly apologetic.

Nodding, Steve said, “it hurt quite a lot, baby, and it’ll hurt some time that you felt you couldn’t trust us. What hurts more is what you did to Bucky. But,” he smiled softly at her, “I hope you realize that we _are_ here for you and will help you, no matter what. Come to us, and we’ll help you find a way, princess. We _love_ you.”

Sniffling, Ava nodded, wiping at her eyes, “I know what I did was terrible . . . do you think he'll ever forgive me?”

“Yes, Ava, he will,” Steve said seriously. “My betrayal was on par and he forgave me and took me back.” He gave her a quick hug then turned her towards the fridge. “Hamburger, eggs, bread crumbs, now,” he instructed. “We need to feed our family.”

Down the hall, Bucky knocked on the boys’ door. “Guysr? Can I come in?”

“Come on in, Papa,” Kevin called happily.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky pushed open the door and walked into the boy's room. “Hey, Tiger, how are you feeling after your big day?”

The boy looked over from where he lay on his belly on the bed next to a sleeping, pale TJ. Kevin had an open binder in front of him and was writing on the note page. Bounding from the bed, Kevin tossed his arms around Bucky and hugged, hard. “Thank you, Papa, for letting me go to school! Most of the kids were nice and all the teachers were, and they let me explain why I had Avenger and everything!” He looked up at his adoptive father, grinning, “and I might already know what the other kids are learning right now, but that means I can help them.”

Bucky smiled softly down at the boy; he ran his fingers through Kevin's hair, “that's awesome, Tiger. I'm really happy you like it so much and want to help others,” he sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him, careful not to rouse the sleeping TJ. Looking at the twelve year old and then back at Kevin, Bucky asked, “he was pretty tired, huh?”

“Uh huh. He fell asleep as soon as we got on the bed, Papa. He said he wished school took longer breaks between classes so he could nap.” Climbing up onto his bed, Kevin put his pen on his binder of paper and pushed it out of the way. He leaned into Bucky. “I’m glad to be home, too, Papa. I missed you all day.”

“I missed you, too, Tiger, but I gotta learn to share . . . speaking of which, why don't you tell me more about your friend . . . uh . . .” Bucky struggled with the new boy's name. He knew that the best thing for TJ would be to homeschool him until he was finished with his treatments, that way Bucky could pace him, letting him take the breaks the exhausted boy needed.

“His name’s Julian,” Kevin supplied happily. “And I don’t know much yet because we only just met. But I know he’s nice to the little guys like me and he kept Avenger safe. And his mom’s so busy working that she’s too tired to give him lunch.”

“About that, I think it's very nice that you wanna bring Julian lunches . . . but, did he say why he doesn't get lunches from the school? The school usually has a program to help kids whose parents are too busy to make them lunches, so that they can eat,” Bucky looked down at his adoptive son.

“They do?” Kevin looked surprised and delighted. “I’ll tell Julian so he can get food from the lunch room. I think the school is pretty smart to help kids who are hungry, huh?” If Kevin didn’t know about the food program, he couldn’t have asked Julian why the other boy hadn’t known.

“Yeah, it's very smart, we don't want kids going hungry because parents are too busy, huh?” Bucky brushed his fingers through Kevin's soft hair again.

“No, that’s a sad thing, Papa. Can I still bring him lunch tomorrow like I promised? It might take a couple days for the school to believe his Mom’s too tired.” Kevin looked up with hopeful grey eyes.

“Sure thing, Tiger, and you're right, it will take a couple days. So, we'll make sure to pack an extra lunch for Julian until he gets on the program, okay? We've got plenty of food,” Bucky smiled gently at the boy.

Nodding, Kevin gave his father a hug. “You are the best Papa ever!”

Bucky kissed the top of Kevin's head, wrapping his one arm around the boy's small frame. “And you're the best Kevin, ever,” Bucky teased lightly, kissing his son's head again.

“Did your talk with Ava go okay, Papa?” Kevin leaned into the cuddles.

“Um . . . it went . . . fine,” Bucky swallowed, still unable to believe his little girl was pregnant.

Kevin proved that despite knowing more than the other students, as he claimed, he still paid attention. “Our teacher told us to write notes so we can look at them later, like you do with your lists, Papa. She said it’s no shame to re-read notes.”

Bucky nodded as he stood back up, “she sounds like a smart lady. You're Dad and cousin are making dinner, it should be ready in a little bit.” He headed back towards the door.

Kevin nodded. “I’ll go help. When you’re done taking care of TJ, you come help, too, Papa.” The small eleven year old boy raced from the room with Avenger keeping up enthusiastically.

Bucky watched the boy dart from the room. He looked down at the sleeping TJ and carefully removed the boy’s shoes and tucked him under the blankets. Bucky gently kissed the boy’s forehead before straightening again. He ran his fingers through Malakai’s fur, knowing the dog would bark if TJ started seizing again, and with the monitor in the living room, they’d be able to hear the distress call.

Bucky stepped out with a sigh, letting his smile fall and his worries hit him full force. He made it to the master bedroom and slumped on the edge of the bed. Reaching over, Bucky grabbed the journal that sat on his nightstand. Opening it up to the last page he’d used, Bucky sighed and began writing down the events of the day, his hand shaking slightly, making the words illegible. Taking a breath, Bucky looked down at the messy scrawl and frowned.

A soft knock on the door came to the man on the bed.

“Yeah?” Bucky looked up at the opened doorway and saw his husband, “oh . . . hey, Steve . . . sorry - - I was just . . . well, I was _trying_ to write down what happened . . . but . . .” he looked back down at the page and frowned again.

Steve walked in and sank to the bed beside his husband. “I love you, Buck,” he said softly. “Want me to write and you dictate?”

“I guess,” Bucky sighed, that feeling of uselessness once more surging in him; he couldn’t even write anymore. He really needed to learn to write better right handed.

Steve gently took the diary and turned the page, protecting Bucky’s privacy by hiding the current writing. He took the pen and held it poised. “Tell me what to write, baby,” he encouraged.

The brunet repeated what he’d meant to write the first time, reminding himself about Ava’s pregnancy, her using him to lie to Steve and her punishment. He also added Kevin’s new friend, which Steve had to remind him of the boy’s name again.

The only time Steve interrupted was to tell Bucky Julian’s name. Other than that, he wrote quickly, neatly, and accurately what his husband told him to. He didn’t let his own thoughts and emotions distract Bucky, either. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s need to use his less trained right hand, Steve wouldn’t have been privy to what was written that day. Steve felt it was only fair to allow Bucky the chance to record his thoughts and sort through them without having to analyze them for someone else.

After he was done, Bucky sighed and ran his still trembling hand through his hair. “What are we going to do, Steve?” he asked softly, sounding overwhelmed. “I didn’t get to talk with TJ about homeschooling . . . he was fast asleep when I went in there. I think today was too long for him . . . he told Kevin that he wished there’d been more breaks so he could nap.”

Steve sighed, “and he never said a word today, just soldiered on. Brave kid. Yeah, we’ll talk with him when he wakes up, Buck. TJ should be allowed to learn in a more relaxed setting.”

“Yeah, six and a half hours straight is just too much for him right now,” Bucky nodded, leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder, “if I homeschool him, I’d be able to go at his pace. And if there was a day he was just too sick to get outta bed, we could work around that as well.”

Putting the book and pen aside, Steve finally wrapped his arms around his husband. “And we’ll take Ava to Sharon to get confirmation and find out what she recommends. We give her the choices available to a pregnant woman, Bucky, and help her figure out which is best for her. And we get Daniel and his parents involved, because Daniel needs to be involved.” He dropped a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

“Shit . . .” Bucky appeared to have thought of something, “we need to tell Becca . . .”

“We will, Bucky, but first, grant us the chance to let it sink in. Becca will know within the week. I promise.” He hugged the lean man to him. “I love you, Buck,” Steve repeated.

Leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder, Bucky sighed, “I love you, too, Steve.”

“Ava finally understood what she did was hurtful and very wrong,” Steve reported. “She’s a scared kid forced into a woman’s role. I don’t excuse what she did, by any means, but I think she understands that we would help her, that she made a wrong call.”

“I was mad at first . . . but,” Bucky sighed and nuzzled Steve’s neck, “now I’m just worried.”

“I know. I’m scared for her. She’s cooperating right now and we can hopefully keep her cooperating for her own good. She’ll need to talk to Becca about teen pregnancy. That might help her . . .” Steve dropped another kiss.

“Yeah, and look how well Becca’s turned out,” Bucky murmured.

“Ava’s more mentally stable than Becca because her husband isn’t a firefighter. Let’s give them a chance?” Steve cuddled and kissed. “I think Becca would have been wonderful if she hadn’t had trauma enough to send her over the edge. Bruce said he thought she may have had bipolar or something similar in school but undetected.”

“She’s _sixteen_ , Steve,” Bucky groaned helplessly. 

Steve lifted Bucky’s chin with one gentle hand. “I know, but we can’t change that she got pregnant at sixteen. And if she chooses an abortion? Or her and Daniel want to give up the baby? Or, if she wants to keep it?” he sighed and shook his head. “We have to be supportive, because she’s got a very big adult decision, followed by many more, to make.”

Meeting his husband’s eyes, Bucky sighed and nodded, “I know . . . it’s just - - God, I remember all the shit Becca had to go through when she was pregnant with Ava. Mom and Dad tried really hard to support her . . . but, I think they were always disappointed that she got pregnant in the first place.”

Nodding, Steve kissed Bucky’s lips gently. “Becca and Ava are not the same case, though, because in Becca’s day she had to drop out of school, and she never went back. Ava’s getting her education from a certified home schooler. She can finish her education. I’m more disappointed that she didn’t come to us than her getting pregnant in the first place, as odd as that may seem.”

“I - - I just feel like I failed her somehow, ya know? That we shoulda been harder on her or . . . talked about safe options more . . .” Bucky sighed, shaking his head.

Nodding, Steve sighed. “Me, too. I feel like we should have sat her down when she got her first period and introduced her to birth control and had her practice that child care class high school does to show you how much responsibility a kid can be.” He stroked a hand through Bucky’s curls. “Won’t make that mistake with Kevin. I’d rather he be a lot older when he gets a girl pregnant.”

“I’m not too sure it’s gonna be a girl,” Bucky murmured softly.

Pausing, Steve nodded in agreement. “I think you’re right. At least he and a possible boyfriend won’t get pregnant if that’s the case.”

“Thank God,” Bucky breathed.

“So, talk to him about protection, stressing how it’s very necessary so he and his lover won’t get diseases. My God, he’s eleven and we’re talking about sex safety for Kevin?” Steve shook his head. “And TJ, too. He’ll need the same talk. Maybe we can work with them together?”

“I still say we rip July from the fucking calendar. We can add August to that list, too,” Bucky grumbled. 

Chuckling a bit, Steve cuddled his husband. “I wish it were so easy.” Steve kissed Bucky’s temple again. “So, ready to come out and set the table for meatloaf?”

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “yeah.” The brunet pulled out of Steve’s arms and stood up.

Steve followed suit and stretched. “Hey, have I told you in the last five minutes that I love you?” He offered a smile.

Snorting, Bucky quirked a smile, “yes, you have, twice.”

“Only twice? Not enough,” Steve said with confidence. “Gotta tell you so much you know it in your bones, in case I get so distracted I forget to say it for an hour or so.”

“You really are the biggest sap on the planet, Steve,” Bucky laughed, “but, I love you. You’re my sap.”

“I love being _your_ sap, baby,” Steve chuckled. He followed his husband from the room, capturing his hand as they walked.

**************

Steve made sure Bucky and Kevin were immersed in washing dishes and loading the dishwasher, while Ava wrote down her schedule of classes for the year so Bucky could duplicate them. Nodding, he pulled up the security footage for his studio using his laptop. Looking at the painting, he knew he’d be working hard for the next four days in order to have it ready on time. But, he wasn’t going there to paint until morning. Steve pulled out his phone and began dialing. He held it to his ear and listened to the ringing.

“Steve? Everything okay?” Natasha’s voice answered.

“No, Natasha, things have gone even more loopy since this morning. I can do this over the phone or in person. And I recommend in person. What would you like?” He sounded serious.

“That bad?” Natasha sounded worried, “I guess give me twenty minutes and I can be there?”

“Need your whole family, actually,” Steve said. “The three of you.”

“Jesus, Steve, what’s going on?” Natasha asked; the blond could hear her calling to presumingly Clint, “get ready to leave, I guess Steve needs to tell us something in person.”

Steve dropped, “it involves Ava lying to me about Bucky’s memory and using that lie to work for Fisk.” He left it at that, but he would add the rest of the _why_ and _how_ when they got there.

Natasha hung up a few moments later after giving Steve a worried, terse goodbye. True to her word, in just under twenty minutes, the small family approached the apartment.

Steve stood in the hall waiting, watching with a serious expression that gave nothing away. He didn’t specifically look at Daniel when he let them past into the apartment. Behind the trio, Steve secured the door and called out, “Bucky, love? Come into the living room? Daniel, why don’t you go to the kitchenette and keep Ava company.”

Looking puzzled at his parents, Daniel turned and walked off to meet with his girlfriend and to ask her if she knew what was going on.

Bucky passed the teen on the way out; once in the living room, the brunet walked over to Steve’s side, looking worried.

Steve had the group sit. He looked at the others, taking Bucky’s hand. “Basically, Ava told me Bucky forgot to sign papers to give her permission to work for Fisk; however, Bucky never gave her permission.” Holding up a hand, Steve said, “but the reason you’re here is because of her reason behind the behavior.” He took a breath and said, “she needed money because she is pregnant with Daniel’s baby.” Blunt, true, but quick in order to help the others get to processing faster.

Natasha’s eyes widened and she looked at Clint and then back at Steve, “wait, what? I didn’t . . . even know they were dating . . .”

“Neither did we. It’s possible she lied about who the father is, but I think she was telling the truth,” sighed Steve.

Clint let out a surprised noise and sat back on the couch, shaking his head without comment.

“I don’t think she’d lie and say Daniel was the father,” Bucky added, “she’d have no reason to.”

“We’re taking her to Sharon in the morning to get proper testing and some good medical advice and help for her, as well as her options,” Steve added, “but we didn’t feel right without Daniel being involved in the process. If she’s pregnant and it’s not a false alarm, and he’s the father, he should be part of this for at least the responsible awareness if nothing else.”

Natasha nodded her agreement, “he should be involved.”

Drawing a breath, eyeing Clint as the man still hadn’t spoken, Steve said, “we’ve minimized her phone use and her access outside of the home without supervision. We’re going to homeschool her, which should help on bad days when she’s not well. She’ll be able to keep up and after the baby is born, if she keeps it, she can still school for her senior year and graduate on time. We hope to have Daniel come over daily to help her study, but,” Steve looked at Bucky then back at Natasha and Clint, “if you want, we can check into the legalities of homeschooling Daniel. I’m not sure if we’d be allowed . . . but we can check?”

Bucky frowned. He looked at Steve; they hadn’t discussed that option.

“No,” Clint said. “Daniel finishes school on the system. It will simulate, at the least, having to be out working a job while she’s stuck at home with the infant.”

Nodding, Steve stroked Bucky’s hand. “It was a spur of the moment idea, anyway,” Steve clarified that he hadn’t spoken to Bucky about it yet, either.

“We don’t know if she’s even keeping the baby, Clint,” Bucky said, looking at the stocky blond.

“Daniel still needs to realize how serious this is. The girl has to go through the body changes and dangers of childbirth, and often the infant care. The guy too easily can weasel out of work and responsibility. I want him to know this is a two person thing. He helped create it, he helps take care of things.” Clint frowned severely.

“Clint, they’re just kids,” Bucky said softly, “I agree that Daniel should be a part of things and share the responsibilities . . .” the brunet sighed.

Leaning forward, Clint said, “I sat that boy down when he turned thirteen, Bucky, and explained how to keep it in his pants or cover it up. He failed to do so. Yeah, he’s a kid, and so’s she, but they made a kid . . . so, he acted like an adult and needs to keep acting like one. He will not leave her all the trauma and work and just skate free. Males get it too easy when it comes to childbearing.” Clint crossed his arms again, sitting back.

Bucky flinched and nodded, he still looked down at his lap, but didn’t say anything else.

Steve looked at Natasha for her input, tangling fingers with Bucky and squeezing gently, supportively.

Natasha sighed, “do you know if she wants to keep it or not?”

Steve shook his head, “not yet. We haven’t discussed those options. I was going to wait for the appointment tomorrow so she can get all her questions answered about the different options and processes involved.”

She nodded and sighed again, “well, does Daniel even know?”

Steve leaned forward and said, “Ava said he was the one who suggested the pregnancy test when she didn’t feel well. They’ve known about a week, she said.”

“A week?” Natasha looked surprised, “a week and he didn’t say anything . . .”

Clint looked just as angry and offended as before they’d found out Daniel had known so long. He shook his head and stayed silent.

Looking up, Bucky watched Clint, the other man’s angry demeanor worrying him. The last thing Ava and Daniel needed right now was their parents mad at them for what’d happened. It’d happened; Ava was pregnant with Daniel’s baby, and there was nothing any of them could do about that. “They need our support, no matter what they decide,” Bucky said, voice still soft.

Clint looked surprised at Bucky. “You think I’m not going to support them? When’d I give that impression? I’m all for helping them out, but Daniel’s not going to skim off of working as hard as she does in this.”

“I - - I didn’t say that _you_ wouldn’t support them, Clint . . . I just said they needed our support,” Bucky clarified, “and no one is saying Daniel should be allowed to not work as hard as Ava . . . that’s why we called you guys, so that you and he could be involved.”

Clint leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, dropping his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I did wrong. How’d I fail him?” he whispered, the real reason for his anger suddenly apparent; Clint was mad at _himself_.

“They knew what might happen if they had unprotected sex,” Natasha rubbed her husband’s back, “this isn’t on any of _us_ ; they decided to have unprotected sex and she got pregnant.”

Steve sighed, “I found an open box of condoms in her bag this morning. I thought it meant she was using them at least.”

Clint shook his head, “they’re babies . . . sixteen . . . just kids.”

Bucky sighed and nodded his agreement.

“Okay, so would you guys like to bring Daniel to her appointment? Get him involved right off? I think it might help him think twice about using protection in the future . . .” Steve suggested.

“Yeah, we’ll bring him,” Natasha stated.

“Shall we go talk to the kids and let them know we’re here for them?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, standing up. Clint rose to his feet, as well, gripping his wife’s hand in desperation.

Steve stood and helped his husband to rise, wrapping an arm around him in a supportive hug. Once the group got to the dining room, Steve pulled out a chair for Bucky and sat in his own chair. They’d set up a couple of extra chairs already so the Bartons would be able to sit, too.

Daniel looked at Ava then at the four parents. He swallowed and took his girlfriend's hand, raising his chin in a determined manner.

“First off,” Natasha started, looking at her adoptive son, “we know. All of us.”

“Ava told me you’d be told,” he confirmed, not denying anything. He met his mother’s eyes.

Natasha nodded, “you are a young man who chose to do something and now must follow through. You, though I figure you’d already planned on doing so, will be very involved, regardless of the choice you two make.”

Frowning, Daniel shook his head, sounding puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I be involved?”

“Some men don’t follow through. I am not saying you are one of them,” Natasha said simply, “we are just making sure.”

“Mama, I love Ava. I’ll be here for her forever,” he swore.

“You love me?” Ava’s voice was soft.

Surprised, he turned to her and nodded. “I’ve loved you since we were fourteen, Ava!”

Ava smiled, “I love you, too.”

Daniel hugged her to him, burying his face in her neck. “We’ll get through this, Ava, I promise.”


	13. The Answers Aren’t Pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Flashback with violent consequences, panic attack, severe seizures, anxiety, fear, criminals released from prison, bismuth poisoning**

That strange, unique scent of the paints that Wilson Fisk demanded Steve use was the first thing that came to Bucky’s senses as he woke up from an afternoon nap. He’d been feeling exhausted the last few days and had mainly spent them in bed. Bucky made sure to help Ava and TJ with whatever work on the laptop they needed but other than that he slept . . . hardly getting up to force down a few bites of whatever food Steve brought him. TJ had readily accepted Bucky and Steve’s offer of homeschooling for the year. Sitting up, Bucky rubbed his face and slowly slipped out of bed. Steve had just walked in the apartment door, apparently having actually snuck off during the day to finish the painting instead of waiting until morning.

Steve glanced over and smiled hopefully at his husband. “Nap help, baby?” He carried in the leftover paints and the actual finished painting and set them by the door.

“Yeah . . .” Bucky answered, voice still raspy with sleep; he looked at the painting, tilting his head slightly, “those aren’t your usual paints . . .”

“Nope, they were flown in special by the customer from another country,” Steve smiled. “Now I’m done, though, and I think it looks beautiful. What do you think, babe?”

“Pretty,” Bucky nodded slowly, “kinda shiny.”

Steve walked over to look at the canvas, “the paints cause that pearly look. Not the easiest thing to work with, so I don’t think I’m switching over, but it was nice to experiment with.” He stretched, his body aching, his heart racing a bit. Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and tugged him over for a quick kiss.

“M’mkay,” Bucky allowed himself to be tugged, “do we gotta get Kevin ready for school, Steve?”

“Nope, you slept through that. I set Ava a research report on the American Civil War and TJ one on the American Revolution. Kevin’s going to be picked up by Natasha and brought over when Daniel comes over.” Steve smiled. “Hope that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s okay. We wanted Daniel to help her study.” Bucky looked up at Steve, “thank you for giving them their reports . . . the lesson plan wasn’t too confusing to follow?” Bucky felt bad that Steve was helping him homeschool Ava and TJ, but, he’d been so damn tired these last few days that he often rested when TJ went for his naps.

“Not at all, Bucky. It was clear and very easy to follow. I was able to explain to TJ just what you needed from him.” Steve reached up and stroked his husband’s cheek, eyes worried and loving. he worried that home schooling the kids might too much for his husband’s limited energy, that something might be seriously wrong with Bucky that Bruce hadn’t picked up yet.

“Good,” Bucky nodded, “TJ still sleeping or is he up now?”

“TJ’s resting but awake. He’s reading up on George Washington.” Steve offered a worried smile to his husband.

“I’m not sure if TJ likes Julian all that much,” Bucky said softly with a shake of his head.

“He seems like a nice kid, even if he’s got that _lost boy_ quality to him.” Steve turned and cupped Bucky’s face, kissing him softly. “I love you with my whole being.” He kissed Bucky’s lips again.

“Steve?” Ava’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes, princess?” Steve looked over at her.

“I finished that research project you and Uncle Bucky gave me,” she reported.

“And you properly recorded all your sources according to the book I gave you?” he asked.

“I think so?” she held out the book for Steve to look at, “MLA is kinda hard.”

Smiling, Steve nodded. “Why don’t you go out to the courtyard and enjoy the warm weather while it lasts, princess? It’s warm enough to use shorts. I’ll check the report and give you a grade tomorrow?” He’d taken over homeschooling using Bucky’s materials half of the time, hoping to God the system never figured it out since Steve wasn’t certified to teach.

Ava nodded, “thanks, Steve. Afternoon, Uncle Bucky, was your nap okay?” she gave her uncle a small smile.

Looking at his niece, Bucky nodded, “it was good, thanks, Squirt. How are you feeling today?”

The teen answered, “good today. Not nauseous or anything.”

The front door opened, revealing Daniel, Kevin, Julian, and Avenger. Kevin grinned to see his father awake and up. He ran over and hugged him tightly. “Papa!”

Hugging Kevin back, Bucky looked at Julian, standing by the front door awkwardly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor.

Kevin let go of Bucky and grinned. He hurried back to his friend and grabbed up Julian’s hand, “c’mon. We can get some snacks before we study with TJ, Julian.” He tugged Julian into the kitchen, Avenger at the heels.

Nodding, Steve smiled at Daniel, “Ava’s out in the courtyard, Daniel.”

The teen nodded and hurried outside to the enclosed courtyard.

Bucky looked back at Steve; he leaned forward and kissed Steve’s lips, slowly, passionately.

“Wanna go to our bedroom, Buck?” Steve smiled encouraging the behavior.

“Yeah . . . bedroom,” Bucky agreed with a nod, nipping at his husband’s bottom lip.

Chuckling, not going to brush away one of the rare times Bucky felt up to passion recently, Steve slipped his arm securely around his lover and guided him to their room.

As soon as they were behind the closed door, Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck and crashed his lips against the blond’s. He couldn’t explain it, but Bucky felt a need for his husband’s love . . . he needed to be reminded, _shown_ how much Steve loved him. He could smell that unique scent of Wilson Fisk’s paints that still hung on Steve’s skin.

“You’re needy, aren’t you?” Steve chuckled and pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He reached over to stroke a hand down Bucky’s chest, to his hemline, then back up, under the material and against Bucky’s hot flesh. “So beautiful . . .”

Mewling, Bucky pressed into the contact, his lips moving down to kiss and nip at Steve’s neck. “C’mon, Cap . . . show your soldier how much you love ‘im.”

Moaning lightly, Steve nodded and tugged Bucky’s pajama shirt. “Let’s get you out of those clothes . . . they’re in the way,” he said softly, playfully. Steve made short work of their clothes, then sank onto the bed and scooted backwards, dragging his husband with him, kissing as they moved.

Bucky keened into Steve’s mouth, grinding down against his husband’s filling cock. “Need ya, Steve . . . need ya, so bad . . .”

“You’re gonna get me, love, don’t worry,” Steve murmured, reaching to the bed stand to get the lube. He held up Bucky’s favorite and smiled; “gonna open you up and treat you right, baby,” he purred. Steve opened the lube and coated his fingers and erection. He switched positions so he had Bucky lying on the bed with his hips on a pillow, relaxed and opened for loving. Steve leaned over his husband and caressed his opening with a questing finger. “Love you, Bucky,” he whispered.

Mewling, Bucky nodded, “love you, Stevie . . .” the brunet’s eyes were already darkening with lust and he shifted his hips to try and make Steve’s finger breach him. “You’re always so good to me, Stevie . . .”

Steve kissed as he slid one finger in past Bucky’s ring of muscle, smooth and slow, knowing his lover could take that much. He slide in deep and began caressing and twisting around, arching his finger to open Bucky up, stretching his passage.

Bucky moaned softly, hips stuttering against the pillows; he wanted so much more of his husband. “Steve . . . Stevie . . .” he whined low.

“Gotcha, Buck,” Steve murmured against his husband’s lips. Pulling out, Steve added a second finger and began pushing carefully into his husband’s tight heat. Once he’d, again, bottomed out, Steve began twisting, curling, scissoring, and stroking, caressing once or twice over his husband’s prostate to keep him building.

As Steve caressed over his prostate, Bucky let out a low growl mixed with a keen, his hips moving with Steve’s fingers, chasing that pleasurable feeling. Steve always made him feel so good, knew just what to do to make him writhe and squirm in pleasure.

Smiling, delighting in making his husband feel good, Steve slowly withdrew then slid in a third finger with the first two. He let Bucky move himself for a bit, keeping his fingers still, waiting until his husband realized that Steve was still.

With a low whine, eyes meeting Steve’s, Bucky continued to fuck himself on Steve’s fingers, so desperate for that full feeling.

Steve kissed his lips. “Want the real thing, baby?”

“Yes, yes . . . want it, want it so bad, Stevie . . . please?” Bucky begged, hips continuing to roll down against his husband’s fingers.

With a small nod, Steve slipped his fingers from his husband, feeling Bucky chasing the fingers as they left this body. Gripping his own cock, Steve brought the blunt head against Bucky’s entrance and began pushing.

Moaning, Bucky pushed against the large cock entering him, “yes, Stevie . . . always so good to me . . . always treat me right . . .”

Smiling wider, moaning low as he felt his husband’s tight heat envelope him, Steve thrust all the way in, bottoming out. “I love taking care of you. You’re mine to care for, Bucky.”

Keening as Steve bottomed out, Bucky panted and his hand gripped at the comforter below him. “Yes, ‘m your’s, Stevie . . .” the brunet promised, voice filled with need and desire.

Steve began pulling out then snapped his hips to impale himself deeply. Again and again, Steve stroked deep and hard, falling into a rhythm quickly as he stroked over Bucky’s prostate every few thrusts.

Bucky groaned and keened with each thrust, his hips moving to match Steve’s rhythm, pushing the blond that much deeper. “Love . . . you . . . Steve. Take care . . . of . . . me,” Bucky panted, feeling himself edging closer and closer to release.

“Yeah,” Steve let out a low, playful growl, “I’ll take real good care o’ ya.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to look at Steve, another deep, low growl echoing in his ears. Hands hitting him . . . tearing at his clothes . . . securing a collar around his neck! He was at Steve’s apartment in Manhattan; Brock had taken him, threatened Ava . . . Brock was _raping him_! “Get off! Stop!” Bucky screamed, thrashing and hitting at the body on top of him as hard as he could with his hand.

Steve froze, horrified at the terror, the screams ripped from his husband’s throat. “Buck?” He leaned on his elbows, trying to cup Bucky’s face so he could focus the brunet’s attention. “Buck . . .”

Thrashing harder, Bucky screamed again, a sound filled with pain and fear, “stop! Get off! Stop it!” The brunet’s eyes were wide and unfocused.

The door banged open and Kevin stood there, horror across his features and skin paling considerably. He began to tremble, frozen as Steve slid off Bucky and tried to control him so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Papa? Dad, you hurt him!” Kevin’s voice was accusatory.

Shaking his head, Steve said, “no, it’s a flashback, Kevin!” He held Bucky down, fighting his husband’s fear-increased strength.

“Get off me!” Bucky cried, thrashing and pulling at the hands that held him down, “Get off!”

“Kevin, on the bed stand, get the key. Open the medicine chest and give me the needle with the red cap,” Steve instructed, not ducking Bucky’s hits.

Kevin sobbed and turned to Julian, his own eyes almost as dazed and lost as his adopted father’s. Julian jumped into action, doing exactly what Steve had order and retrieving the needle with the red cap. Bucky continued to fight and scream, voice beginning to sound raw. The sounds of feet running up the hall came just before Daniel hurried in and skidded to a shocked halt. Ava was close behind Daniel, her eyes wide at the sight, though she immediately wrapped Kevin in a hug, turning him away.

Down the hall, Malakai could be heard barking, that loud, insistent barking to notify others that something was wrong.

Unable to let go of Bucky, Steve called out, “need to take the cap off the needle. Be careful not to stab yourself.” He didn’t check who had the needle, just using the person to help him sedate his terrified husband. “And someone get to TJ! Make sure he’s breathing!”

Julian nodded, face set in determination.

Daniel took the needle carefully from the eleven year old and offered the kid a thankful smile. “Got this. Go help Kevin, Julian. Ava, go to TJ.” The teenager moved to Bucky’s side and followed Steve’s desperate instructions to inject Bucky.

Ava darted from the doorway.

Shortly, Steve could feel Bucky slowing and fading into unconsciousness. After Bucky was out, Steve pulled a sheet over him and reached for his robe. Once reasonably decent, he turned and put a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Thanks, Daniel.”

He walked over to where Julian stood with Kevin near the bedroom door. “Everyone in the living room, Kev. Ice cream while we wait for Riley. I’m calling Bruce and Riley.” Steve couldn’t risk Bucky losing it so violently again. He needed care beyond his husband’s capabilities.

Daniel nodded, giving Bucky one last glance before ushering Kevin down the hall with quiet, soothing words. Julian followed closely behind the pair.

“Steve!” Ava called from the direction of TJ’s room.

Steve pulled out his phone and looked towards Ava’s voice. He ran over to TJ’s room. “Princess?” He speed dialed Bruce.

Ava had TJ on his side and the boy looked as if he’d just started to regain his normal color. It appeared that TJ had fallen very close to some of the furniture in the room, but there wasn’t any blood visible from an obvious hit. She looked up at Steve with wide eyes, “he - - he was all blue . . . he wouldn’t stop! It was longer than any of Kevin’s seizures!”

Kneeling down, Steve held the phone out to Ava, saying “call Bruce. Already ringing.” He then began to check over TJ, making sure the boy was uninjured and breathing. “This is part of his brain tumor, princess. His seizures are worse than Kevin’s.”

Upon checking over the nearly unconscious boy, Steve could see a bruise forming on TJ’s shoulder but there weren’t any head wounds or anything that looked to be a severe injury. “Good boy, Malakai,” Steve praised the dog as he checked the boy. Finally, he nodded, relief flowing through him. Stroking TJ’s hair, Steve leaned closer and said, “it’s okay, TJ, baby, Steve’s here. You’re safe. Just rest.”

Ava could be heard relaying all the details to Bruce over the phone, watching TJ and Steve with wide eyes. She’d never actually witnessed one of TJ’s seizures before . . . she’d thought Kevin’s were scary . . . TJ’s were downright terrifying.

Steve scooped up TJ to place in the bed, patting the mattress for Malakai to join them. He softly said, “Ava, would you mind getting ice cream for everyone, please? I think they all need the sugar rush.”

Nodding, Ava stood up and looked at the boy on the bed, “he’s gonna be okay, Steve?”

Looking up at Ava, Steve smiled, “he’ll be just fine. You did so well with him. TJ’s breathing fine now. I’ll clean him up in a moment, but I want to wait until I have another adult in here to help Kevin. You’re doing good, princess. I want you to get some ice cream, too.”

Taking and releasing a deep breath, Ava nodded and left the bedroom.

**************

Once in the livingroom, Daniel took out his phone and dialed his Mom, hands shaking now the adrenaline was over.

“Daniel? Everything okay?” Natasha answered.

Softly, still scared and feeling almost overwhelmed, Daniel said, “Mr. Rogers . . . Bucky . . . freaked out and I gave him a shot . . .” The sixteen year old began to cry.

“I’m on my way now, is everyone okay? Nobody got hurt?” Natasha asked.

“TJ got real sick, Mama, and Kevin’s crying hard. The screams were so scary!” Daniel hugged himself one-armed.

“I can imagine, you’re very brave to help Steve give Bucky a shot,” Natasha said, the sound of a car door opening and closing came to the teen.

“He had to hold him down, Mama . . .” Daniel sobbed. “He kept saying to let him go and he screamed so bad!”

“Daniel, take a few deep breaths, okay? Your Dad and I will be there soon, okay?” Natasha tried to comfort her distraught son.

Trying to do as his mother instructed, Daniel sobbed and gasped and hiccoughed. He looked over at the near catatonic Kevin then at Julian, who appeared a little freaked out but seemed the most calm out of all the kids and was helping with Kevin.

Ava walked down the hall and headed into the kitchen. She came back shortly with four bowls and spoons and an armful of different flavors of ice cream. Putting everything on the table, Ava began opening every container. “Come on. Steve says we need ice cream . . . something about needing sugar . . .”

Daniel nodded and obeyed, reaching a shaky hand for the chocolate chip.

“C’mon, Kevin,” Ava guided the boy over to the table.

The front door opened without warning and Riley walked in. He strode over to the group of kids and sat down, actually pulling Kevin onto his lap. “How’re you guys holding up?” he asked Ava and produced a needle she hadn’t seen him carrying. This one had a blue cap. He uncapped it and gave Kevin a shot, catching the boy up and letting him fall unconscious in large, safe arms. Riley held the small eleven year old close. “Ava, please help Julian get some ice cream.” He carefully put the bare needle on the table.

“Not all that hungry, thanks, though,” Julian said, watching Kevin closely.

“I’m sorry you saw all that, Julian. Mr. Rogers was kidnapped some time ago, and sometimes he thinks he’s still trapped. Kevin has a similar problem. It’s called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Riley pronounced the words slowly and carefully for the boy. “The medicine will help them rest and when they wake up they’ll be able to handle things better. They’ll be with doctors who can make sure they aren’t sick from the lasting effects.”

Julian simply nodded.

Daniel looked over at Julian. “My Mama will drive you home, Julian.” He no longer cried but he still shook. “I don’t think I should be driving right now.”

“I don’t need a ride. I don’t live too far, I can walk,” Julian insisted.

“Not after dark, Julian,” Riley told the boy. “We won’t do that to you.”

“I’ve done it hundreds of times,” Julian said, frowning.

The sound of footsteps then knocking on the outer door came, and Riley let the subject momentarily drop. He looked at Ava. “Can you let Bruce in, Ava?”

Ava nodded, hurrying over to the door and opening it. Bruce came in with a rolling cart of medical supplies. Riley got up, carrying Kevin, and went to TJ’s room, setting the one boy next to the other. Bruce followed with his med cart. Somehow, in all the excitement of Bruce’s arrival, Julian managed to sneak out without a word to anyone. Nat and Clint arrived just after.

Steve glanced at the door when he heard Nat walk into the main hall. He smiled, looking towards Daniel.

“Good boy, Daniel,” he said softly then turned to look towards the door, never leaving TJ’s side.

Daniel nodded and hurried outside to intercept his parents, wiping the tears at his eyes as he met them at the door.

Steve looked at Ava. “Princess, did you want to go with the Bartons? Or you can stay here. But I think you can be trusted to spend the weekend with them now.”

Ava nodded and then scurried out of the apartment, after Daniel.

Clint caught Ava in a brief hug then softly instructed, “if you’re coming with us, you’ll need to pack up Shadow and yourself for longer than two nights. You might be with us for a bit while things get sorted here. Can you do that?”

“Y - - yeah, I - - I can do that,” Ava nodded, looking a little frazzled.

Clint kept an arm around her securely. “Let’s go find the cat.”

“H - - he was screaming so loud . . .” Ava breathed, eyes wide. “And TJ . . . he was _blue_. I thought he was dead . . .”

“TJ’s breathing again now, right? You took good care of him,” Clint praised. “And Bucky had a flashback, right? He thought Brock had him?” Holding her, Clint looked at Natasha over Ava’s head. “Did they ever tell you what Brock did to them, Ava? What Steve and Bucky went through at his hands?”

Ava shook her head, “I - - I don’t remember a whole lot . . . and they don’t really like to talk about it. I - - I remember Uncle Bucky was bruised . . . and Steve limped a lot . . .”

Nodding, Clint said, “well, I don’t know a whole lot, either, but if you remember that movie you guys watched last month over our place? The one with the slaves being chained and abused? That’s basically how Brock treated your Uncle that one night he had him. He had Steve for several years.”

Ava frowned, not saying anything.

Clint hugged her again and watched as Bruce wheeled his cart towards Bucky’s room, having finished with the boys for the moment.

Steve walked out of TJ’s room at last. “They’ll be okay, princess. Bruce and Riley say they’ll be fine.” He gave her a brief hug. “Don’t worry about homework, princess. We’ll reach you through your laptop if you need to stay longer. Just try to rest. Remember, this clinic is a hospital so all three are fine.” He headed to the master bedroom to check on his husband.

Clint hugged her again and turned her towards her bedroom. “Come on, Ava. Let’s get you packed.”

**************

When the call had first come in, in fact, Dr. Banner had the preliminary results of the environmental scan and it worried him. Bruce finally came out into the hall and frowned. “Where’s Ava?”

“I told her to go with Nat and Clint to their place. I didn’t want her stressed even worse in her condition.” Steve looked to the wide master bed, noting Bucky was hooked up to monitors and IV’s. Steve looked torn since the boys were in the other room, but he jumped to his feet as Riley came in, carrying TJ and letting Wade push the IV and monitor for him. Riley placed TJ towards the edge of the bed on Bucky’s left side then went and quickly got Kevin, whom he managed to maneuver into the middle. He thanked Wade and let the volunteer go back to his own apartment.

Steve sank down in a chair and carefully took Bucky’s right hand, the empty left side closer to Kevin and TJ. He lifted the hand very tenderly, aware that there was an IV as well as pressure cuff and O2 Sat monitor on his arm and hand. Steve kissed the hand gently then carefully lowered it once more, stroking the back of Bucky’s hand.

A few moments passed before Bruce pulled Steve away to talk about what happened, leaving Riley to sit at the bedside. He looked at the worried parent and offered a grim smile. “How are you two holding up, Steve?”

Riley checked Bucky’s machines then carefully leaned over to check on TJ and Kevin. He sank back onto the chair.

Bucky slowly began to wake back up, he blinked groggily at Riley, looking confused as to what had happened. He looked over at the two resting boys and then back at the blond nurse. “What . . . what happened?”

“As far as we can tell, Bucky, you had a very violent flashback, though no one’s hurt. Kevin flashed back after you started, triggered we think by your flashback. TJ responded with a very bad seizure. Steve had Ava, Daniel, and that other little boy I don’t know, help him watch you guys, sedate you, and contact us. Ava’s gone with the Bartons for a little while to get her out of the high stress.” Riley leaned forward, “Bucky, think back if you can. Are the clothes on the floor Steve’s and your’s?”

“Uh . . .” Bucky blinked a few times and looked at the clothes that Riley spoke about and slowly nodded. “I . . . think so? We . . .” Bucky swallowed thickly and said quietly, “we . . . we were having sex?”

Nodding, Riley asked, “and those clothes . . . Steve wore at the house while painting, right? He forgot to put them in the biohazard bag or take a shower?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in thought and he nodded after a few moments, “he didn’t take a shower. I . . . I had just woken up?”

Riley sighed, “so it’s safe to assume he came directly from several hours at your house in a possibly toxic environment and you may well have reacted to the toxin?” The nurse eyed the clothes on the floor.

“I don’t know? He . . . he said something . . . sounded like . . .” Bucky shook his head, looking at the boys again and then back to Riley.

“Bucky, has Steve changed brands or types of paints recently, say around June, maybe?” Riley offered an encouraging smile, mentally determining to have Steve’s art supplies tested as well.

Looking surprised, Bucky slowly said, “Fisk . . . the _Sunrise_ commission. Fisk makes him use these special paints.”

Riley smiled, looking hopeful, “is it possible that, without knowing it, those paints are part of the problem? Depending on where they’re shipped in from, regulations might be more lax than American standards? It’s possible those paints are the source for the heavy metals they’ve started finding in the environmental scans of your house.”

“I guess it’s possible . . .” Bucky swallowed again and looked at the boys on the bed, “they . . . they heard me?”

“Yes, Buck,” Riley answered seriously, quietly. “I think Kevin thought Steve was raping you. He freaked out and regressed way back to his toddler trauma.” Riley checked the boys again. “I’m arranging for the family to have trauma counseling as a group as well as each individually for their various traumas and to learn to cope with each other. It’s the only way I can see any of you learning to cope with what you went through, Bucky. And, I’m not just recommending it. I’m ordering this to be done.”

Nodding, not arguing with Riley’s assessment, Bucky looked back at the nurse, “And you said that TJ had another bad seizure? He’s back on an IV?”

“Ava took care of him and I understand TJ stopped breathing for a bit again. That’s one of the reasons she’s been sent to live with the Bartons at least for this weekend, to let Nat help her through that event. She was near hysterical, though she was doing a fair attempt at hiding it.” Riley sighed and turned to study TJ. “His dog alerted again.”

“How did all this happen so fast? Just a few months ago everything was fine . . .” Bucky shook his head.

Riley nodded. “Bucky, we found heavy metal toxins in all your blood work, the entire family, though the least amount in Ava. This toxin won’t go away without being counter-acted with the appropriate medicine. It also builds up. We’ve overruled arsenic, but that’s only the most famous of the group. This toxin is causing the symptoms of anxiety, illness, and has been known to increase seizures or even induce them, among other things.” Riley touched Bucky’s hand to keep the man’s attention. “Memory loss can be a side effect, too, Bucky. This is most important. Has anyone except Steve been to your house after we set the ban in place?”

“I . . . I don’t think so?” Bucky answered with a shake of his head, “TJ’s been too sick to leave and with Ava being homeschooled, only Kevin’s been leaving to go to school.”

Stroking Bucky’s hand, Riley nodded and offered his soft, sweet smile. “Bucky, we’ll test Steve’s clothes from today. If I don’t miss my guess, he became covered in the heavy metal during his visit and wasn’t even aware. He came home and the poison infected all of you who came in contact, since you can’t naturally get rid o f heavy metal poisoning on your own, it has to be leached out by a special blend of drugs for each type of poison. The lingering toxins on Steve’s clothes may have thrown you guys into a mini-overdose.”

“Jesus,” Bucky lay his head against the pillow, looking slightly overwhelmed and confused, “could TJ’s tumor be caused by the poison, too?” 

“That’s a yes or no question. It can be, or it might not, but it certainly isn’t helped by the toxin. We need to test those clothes and Steve’s paints. I think we found the culprit at last, Bucky, which means he is to, in absolutely no way, use those paints again! They might not be FDA approved or safe.” Riley didn’t even pause at limiting Steve’s use of the special paints; he wanted this family better and if Steve changing back to his old paints helped, Riley would put his foot down and insist. He also planned to report the paints if they were the culprit, blocking whatever dickhead dealer had been importing the deadly hidden toxin. The big thing was to figure out which heavy metal so they could give the proper meds to counteract the toxins in each person’s body. “Bucky, the heavy metals can also be affecting Steve’s heart, which can have permanent effects.”

“Why would Fisk insist on giving Steve those paints, Riley? Maybe Fisk knew all along?” Bucky met the nurse’s eyes, a flash of anger in his own.

“That’s possible, Bucky, I won’t deny. I would say get legal help to sort this out while the police get involved in researching everything. If Fisk specifically made Steve use those despite fair warnings by the seller, he can actually be arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. The Senator won’t like that.” Riley stood to cross around the bed, bending in to carefully check on TJ and pat Malakai’s ears. “Good boy.”

TJ let out a low, confused whimper, his face scrunching up in a pained grimace before relaxing. His eyes cracked open and he looked around, confused as to what room he was in. His eyes met Riley’s first as they scanned the room.

“And there he is,” Riley welcomed TJ. “Good evening, sunshine. Feeling sick still?”

“Don’t . . . feel good?” TJ murmured softly.

Nodding the nurse gently asked TJ, “TJ, when you were at the house did you often go to the art room to watch Steve paint?”

“Yeah?” TJ answered honestly, pale eyes flickering with confusion, “there wasn’t much more to do?”

Smiling wider, Riley patted TJ’s shoulder and said to Bucky, “I’m going to carefully collect those clothes, Buck. I think we may have hit upon our culprit.”

Bucky nodded and looked at the boys then back at Riley, “okay . . .” he wondered where Steve was . . . usually Steve was there when any three of them regained consciousness.

Riley checked over the three again then went over to Bruce’s medcart, pulling a hazmat type suit from the bottom drawer. He quickly got suited then collect the clothing in a specially designed container. Once done, he disposed of his own temporary outfit, cleaned up, and paged Wade. “Any questions for me, Bucky? I can try to answer them, but the answers may sound generic.”

“No . . . I’m okay for right now,” Bucky said, “thank you, Riley.”

**************

About three hours after their initial terrifying scare and the subsequent quick actions, Riley walked back into the room where Bucky and the boys slept. He smiled and nodded, stepping out of the way of Steve’s finally re-joining them; Bruce had wanted some serious time with Steve so he could try to get the answers Riley had all but stumbled upon. Steve also got a thorough shower before returning. Steve sank into the chair and stroked Bucky’s cheek carefully.

Finally, Bruce walked into the master bedroom and pulled up a chair. He looked at Steve and Riley. “Come, sit. You’re going to want to hear what I’ve just found out.”

The nurse and patient’s husband both settled.

With a nod, Bruce said, “the governor is reviewing prisoner records and giving pardons for good behavior.”

Bucky’s eyes widened with a look of pure fear but he didn’t interrupt the doctor.

Continuing on, Bruce said, “we’ve taken precautions in case Rumlow or Rollins are among those released, though God knows they shouldn’t be with their backgrounds and the violence of their crimes.”

“That’s the reason for the guard?” Steve asked, revealing something Bucky hadn’t been told happened while he’d been sick.

“Exactly,” Bruce confirmed. “We’re also contacting other patients with similar situations, but I was called here just as the report came through about the decision. We would have called you in for safety reasons and consultation even if you hadn’t been in the clinic already.” Shaking his head Bruce said, “there’s no evidence that either will be released, but we thought you should know and be prepared with some contingencies.”

Bucky nodded, still frowning, looking worried.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “Things just keep piling up,” he whispered, sounding close to a breakdown of his own.

Bruce patted Steve’s arm and nodded. “Well, here you’ll get some help. We’re going to take a last round of blood tests to be sure things have begun to work out with the medicines. Those will be back in a few hours. Riley will be taking them as soon as you consent.”

Steve nodded. “Go ahead. I want them treated.”

Bruce nodded and signaled to Riley, who began taking the blood work pre-discussed with Bruce. Carefully, the doctor asked, “Steve, would you consent to giving a sample, too?”

Nodding, Steve said, “whatever you need.”

A few more hours passed while tests were done. Bruce began watching for signs of the two boys waking up, knowing the sedative would be wearing off Kevin. Steve was once more in his chair at Bucky’s side. By then, Bucky’s arm had been boarded to prevent pulling out the IV, the same as Kevin’s and TJ’s. Steve sported a nice black eye that was very visible, the bruise having come during the initial struggle during Bucky’s flashback.

“I hit you? I . . . I’m so sorry,” Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked horrified as he finally noticed the developing bruising.

“No, baby, don’t be. I’m okay, sweetheart.” Steve stroked his husband, offering a gentle smile. “You thought I was hurting you, were trapped in the past. It’s okay. I understand completely.” he leaned over and carefully kissed Bucky’s forehead. “I love you, Bucky.”

“I - - I never wanted to hurt you . . .” Bucky insisted, trying to sit up again.

“I know that, Bucky. I know you didn’t. Let me help you, stay still.” Steve removed his fingers and pressed a button that lifted Bucky’s side of the bed so he could sit up. “Better?”

The soft sound of Keivn’s confused voice came to them, “Papa? Dad?”

“We’re here, Kevin,” Steve soothed from across the bed. He looked over to judge TJ’s awareness, as well.

TJ appeared to be sleeping, the horrible seizure having drained what little energy he had left.

Bucky looked over at the boys, still horrified and shocked that he’d hit Steve. “It’s okay, Tiger.” He couldn’t believe they’d let Kevin and TJ be in the same bed as him after he’d so violently attacked his husband. Bucky shifted away from the boys slightly, terrified that he’d hurt his adoptive sons in such a fragile state.

Steve got up and moved to TJ's side and stroked his hair from his grey eyes then doing the same for TJ. “Heya, Kev, Teej, feeling better?” He called softly, “Riley? Would you move Kevin and TJ to TJ’s own room and keep an eye on them? I’m sure Avenger and Malakai miss them.”

Riley came in with a smile and began helping Steve get the children out of the master bedroom. Within ten minutes, Steve returned and sank onto the bed next to Bucky. He turned to his husband and stroked the brunet’s left side. “Relax, Bucky, you’re safe.”

Bucky looked over at Steve and his eyes caught on even more bruising visible under the robe his husband wore, his eyes widened and he whimpered, pulling away from Steve’s touch.

“Bucky? Please, baby, you’re okay. I won’t hurt you! I had to hold you down until you were sedated, but I swear I won’t hurt you.” Steve sounded worried.

“I hurt _you_! I - - I’m so s - - sorry! I’m sorry! I - - I did - - didn’t mean it!” Bucky insisted, sounding panicked and terrified. If he was capable of hurting his husband, the man he loved more than anything; what else could he do while suffering a flashback?

Surprise lit those blue eyes and Steve said, “hurt _me_? Baby, you haven’t even looked at what happened to _you_.” Steve pulled back the light blanket to display the knee bruising across Bucky’s abdomen from where Steve had to put most of his weight to keep the man down for Daniel's shot. “You’re shoulders don’t look much better, and I’m sure they’re starting to ache from where I held you down.” He flushed lightly at the idea that he had restrained his husband, could be considered a monster for such behavior, even if it was because Bucky was fighting so hard to hurt him.

Bucky looked at his own bruises, he shook his head, and curled into himself.

Carefully, Steve covered him with the blanket again. “I’m sorry I hurt you, too, Bucky, but you were so scared and screaming so loud. You thought I was Rumlow. I had to hold you to sedate you.”

The brunet continued to shake his head, muttering under his breath; he kept apologizing, over and over again.

Steve dropped his head into his hands, the guilt finally welling up.

Fortunately, Riley came in at that time, letting Bruce stay with the boys for the moment. He walked over to Bucky’s right side and checked the machines. “Steve, why don’t you go to the boys for a moment? I want to discuss this with Bucky, and I don’t want you interrupting, please.”

Steve got up, giving Bucky a careful stroke over his hip, then headed out of the room.

Riley finished checking everything and sat down in the chair. “Wanna talk?” he asked.

“I - - I didn’t mean . . . it . . .” Bucky looked over at Riley, eyes wide.

“That depends,” Riley said back, still smiling softly.

Bucky hung his head, pulling his legs closer to his body, despite his hurting abdomen.

“Wanna know what I think?” Riley stood and gently forced Bucky to uncurl. “I think you certainly never intended to hurt Steve and would die before you did so.” He threw his smile to Bucky. “But, while you were lost in that flashback, and seriously with your whole being thought you were being raped by Brock, you fully intended to hurt Brock.” Sinking back on the chair, Riley asked, “would that be right?”

“I - - I don’t . . . remember . . .” Bucky whimpered.

“Don’t have to remember, just tell me what you would do if Brock _did_ get you. You’d fight hard and dirty, right?” Riley reached over to run his gentle fingers over the back of Bucky’s hand.

Bucky swallowed, eyes flickering to look at Riley as he nodded.

“And once you heard Kevin screaming, _inside Brock’s hell_ , you would fight to the death, right?” Riley continued.

The brunet could only nod, his throat tightening with rising emotion.

“So, while you genuinely thought you were being held by Brock, you did everything right, Bucky. You protected your child, you fought off your attacker.” Riley leaned over. “And none of us blame you for going _Mama Bear_. We all understand, including Steve. So, what we need to work on is helping you find a way out of those flashbacks before someone accidentally gets in the place of Brock, right?”

“He - - he growled . . .” Bucky said softly, “he - - he talked like R - - Rumlow . . . I - - I remember that . . .”

“And you forgot instantly where and when you were. You were back under that monster’s control. The rest is obvious, isn’t it, Bucky, memory or no?” Riley smiled soothingly. “So, let’s forget the injuries of both of you for the moment. Let’s work on finding a way to communicate your triggers to Steve so you guys won’t have to worry. You see, learning to live with Post Traumatic involves learning your triggers and helping others, as well as yourself, avoid them until you are ready to deal with them, one by one.” Riley stroked the hand again, “Post Traumatic isn’t an easy condition, Bucky, and it's better if you, as well as your loved ones, accept that you won’t always be in control. Steve has accepted that. What I’d like to help you do is accept it for yourself.”

“B - - But I _hurt_ him . . . like Rumlow used to,” Bucky mumbled brokenly.

“You hurt _Rumlow_ , Bucky. Steve got in the way. As you become more aware, in time, you’ll be able to see through the illusion, sense your rising anxiety, and stop seeing someone else in Rumlow’s place. You didn’t hurt Steve like Rumlow used to. Rumlow did it out of meanness and a desire to hurt and control. You fought back in fear. Steve knows the difference.” Riley carefully moved his hand up to Bucky’s arm, not near the IV. “I have some questions for you that you will absolutely hate, but by now you should know they’re standard. Ready?”

Releasing a shaky breath, Bucky nodded, “y - - yeah, I’m ready.”

“Do you feel safe at home?” Riley jumped right in with the one that would signal Bucky that they’re discussing Steve possibly abusing Bucky or the kids.

“Yes,” Bucky nodded.

“How often does Steve use force to control or restrain you?” Riley continued.

“Th - - this was the first time,” Bucky answered as firmly as he could, there was always a chance he’d forgotten an episode . . . but he highly doubted Steve would use that type of force without it being completely necessary.

Nodding, Riley asked, “how does he discipline the children?”

“T - - takes away phone privileges? Ground them? Just normal punishments . . .” Bucky looked over at Riley.

“Does he maybe threaten, without possibly carrying it out, to hit the kids or you?” Riley asked, calm and serious, eyes caring.

“N - - no, never . . . Steve wouldn’t threaten the kids,” Bucky insisted.

“Or you?” Riley prompted.

Bucky shook his head, “or me.”

“Who does the cooking?” he appeared to change topics, but Riley was following a specific path Bruce had discussed previously with him.

“Cooking? Uh . . . Steve and Ava? Kevin helps sometimes . . .” Bucky answered, looking confused at the change in subject.

“Has Ava ever made threats? Even empty-sounding ones?” Riley asked.

“Um . . . no? She gets mad sometimes . . . yells, but I - - I don’t think she’s ever threatened anyone . . .” Bucky answered.

Riley nodded. “And Kevin? Does he make threats?” he knew the question would sound ridiculous and might reassure Bucky that these were standard questions, not suspicious ones, despite the truth.

“No, Kevin would never threaten anyone,” Bucky answered firmly.

“And TJ?” Riley prompted.

Shaking his head, Bucky answered, “no, TJ’s never threatened anyone, either.”

“And you, do you recall if you get angry and maybe threaten the others?” Riley smiled, to relax Bucky, not suspecting Bucky at all of abuse.

“No . . . I don’t like punishment . . .” Bucky answered.

Nodding, Riley patted the bare expanse of arm, “just one of the questions I need to ask, Bucky. Now, see if you can recall, but has anything in the house changed over the last couple of months? Any decorating or new foods or new bath products?”

“Um . . .” Bucky furrowed his brows, “I think Steve’s been trying some new recipes? But - - I’m not sure . . .”

“That’s okay. How about the dogs? Do they get bagged food, canned food, or do you guys actually cook for them?” Riley slid into domestic sounding questions that would appear to be testing Bucky’s memory more than threats in the household.

“I . . . bagged food?” Bucky said.

Stopping still and turning an intense gaze on Bucky, Riley asked, “Bucky, think, has Kevin ever tried to eat with his dog?”

“What? Like the dog food? N - - no . . . we’d never let him eat with the dogs . . .” Bucky insisted.

“Yet when he was first rescued, his captors fed him from the dog bowl with bagged food and scraps,” Riley reminded.

“No . . . we aren’t like that, Riley . . . h - - he eats at the table,” Bucky said.

“No, you misunderstand, Bucky. I’m not asking if you’re forcing him to eat like a dog. I’m asking if Kevin’s flashing back and eating that way because he thinks he’s back in _his_ prison.” Riley looked intent; Bruce hadn’t thought of that before so this was a line of questions Riley was asking on his own.

“No . . . Kevin doesn’t eat from the dog bowl,” Bucky said firmly.

“And the closet? Has he been sleeping in his closet? Wetting the bed?” Riley asked.

“He’s been having seizures, more so than normal . . .” Bucky looked at the nurse.

“So, this catatonic state he was in when Steve sedated him, that’s not normal?” Riley prompted.

“No, he doesn’t go catatonic often,” Bucky answered.

Patting Bucky’s arm, Riley soothed, “you’d notice, Bucky. Trust me. You’d smell urine or feces in the closet or even on him. You’d see him acting funny about his food. Even with your short-term memory problem, you’d know something wasn’t right with Kevin. But I had to check.” He smiled softly. “Ready to continue? I’ve got a few more.”

“Y - - yeah,” Bucky nodded, releasing a shaky breath.

“If you want the tally, so far it looks like you and Kevin are safe and loved in the house. Now I get to check about TJ, Ava, and Steve,” Riley waited to see how Bucky would respond.

“Ava, TJ, and Steve?” Bucky tilted his head, “they aren’t safe?”

“Bucky, take a deep breath. I did not say they aren’t safe. I said it’s my job to ask if they are.” Riley petted again. “Okay?”

“Oh . . . okay,” Bucky said.

“Now, these questions are going to sound just as bad as the rest, if not worse, Bucky. Focus and answer honestly, and don’t take offense. They’re required by law, actually. First, and nastiest, is it possible Ava’s baby is your’s or Steve’s?” Riley met his eyes.

Bucky shook his head, “no . . . that’s not - - no.”

Nodding, Riley patted again, “no one thought so, Bucky. Just the law to ask. Now the easier ones. Take a deep breath. Almost done.”

Bucky nodded, taking a shaky, deep breath.

“Do you think anyone who comes to the house may be hurting you or the others? Anyone at all?” Riley looked at him, knowing that focusing on outsiders would be easier than questioning the love and loyalty of the family, even if the subject was just as terrible.

“Freddy? Ava’s boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now, that she’d sneak into the house through the boys’ window. He wasn’t happy when Steve and I made them end it . . . Steve called the cops on him,” Bucky said, looking at Riley.

“Good,” Riley praised. “Is Freddy the father of Ava’s baby?”

“N - - no? I don’t think so . . . it’s Daniel? At least, that’s what she told me and I don’t think she’d lie about that,” Bucky looked at the blond nurse.

“Okay. Would you like to know why I’m asking all these horrible questions, Bucky?” Riley petted his arm.

“Y - - you said you had to?” Bucky answered.

“The law states that I have to when it is suspected that people are being deliberately hurt, yes,” Riley answered.

“Wh - - who’s being hurt?” Bucky asked, eyes widening again.

Meeting Bucky's worried eyes, Riley said, in an even tone, “we’ve found indications that you, TJ, and Kevin have been continually poisoned for the last few months, Bucky.”

“Poisoned? B - - but that’s . . . that’s not right . . . who’d - - how’d we be poisoned without us knowing it?” Bucky questioned, looking shocked.

“We’ve already determined privately that it’s not deliberately Steve doing it, or any of the family for that matter, but the law says we have to ask. The only thing we’ve found so far that’s different is the paints, and the preliminary environmental reports suggest it’s in the house but not the water or soil.” Riley lightly squeezed Bucky’s arm. “TJ has that tumor, so the toxin is affecting him worse, but we feel that any exposure at all will endanger all of you. Look at tonight with the clothing Steve had worn home.”

Bucky shook his head, looking confused and worried, “it’s - - it’s been causing Kevin’s and TJ’s seizures?”

“Some of the side effects of poisoning would be memory loss and other loss of cognitive abilities, unsteady movements, jerking and even seizures, along with exhaustion, among other things. All symptoms you, TJ, Steve, and Kevin display.” Riley let go of Bucky’s arm. “One of the reasons we have you three on IV’s, and Bruce should right now be administering one to Steve, is to administer the antidote, which will take weeks to flush you out. You can come off the IV’s in a few days, but will still need a careful regimen of medicines to keep countering the bismuth.”

“Bismuth?” Bucky tilted his head.

Nodding, Riley said, “Bruce found high levels of bismuth, a heavy metal, in your systems. It’s not supposed to be there. Bismuth is often used in some medicines and household items, but not in the quantities we found. These are levels that go beyond regular FDA approved and regulated amounts.”

“But . . . how . . . where would someone even get bismuth?” Bucky frowned, having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he and his family were being poisoned.

“It’s mixed with other metals and used in fire extinguishers, solder, cosmetics, burn ointments, paints, all kinds of things, actually.” Riley sighed and shook his head.

“Wait . . .” Bucky’s head snapped up, eyes wide and urgent, “paints? You said paints?”

“Yes, I did.” Riley leaned forward, “Bucky? Do you think the paints were deliberately tampered with? Have you or Kevin or TJ been helping Steve with painting?”

“Th - - the paints . . . they smell funny . . . are shiny . . . Kevin, TJ, and I were home a lot,” Bucky looked at the nurse.

“Bismuth makes cosmetics appear pearly. It can probably do the same with paint, though usually it’s used to make yellow, like in sunrises.” Riley watched Bucky, a worried frown on his face.

“Sunrise? Sunrise . . .” Bucky mused, thinking over the word, “Fisk! It’s Fisk! H - - he gave Steve paints to use!”

“Would Steve have proof that the specific paints came from Senator Fisk, Bucky?” Riley stood, prepared to warn Bruce where to concentrate the start of the search.

“He - - he was making Steve give ‘em back! Fisk wanted to employ Ava! And open a gallery with Steve! Steve said no!” Bucky said, eyes still wide and frantic.

Nodding, Riley smiled, “thanks, Bucky, you gave us a direction to look. I’ll send Steve back in while I go tell Bruce.” He began to walk to the door then turned back, “Thanks, Bucky!” Riley headed out.

Steve entered a few minutes later, pushing an IV pole along, and sank onto the bed, touching Bucky’s hip. “Baby? Riley said you figured out something important?”

“It’s Fisk! Fisk is hurting us, Steve!” Bucky said urgently.

“How would the Senator be hurting us?” Steve felt confused at the unexpected accusation, though he didn’t argue it.

“The paints, Steve! It’s the paints!” Bucky reported.

“The ones from Africa?” Steve asked, frowning, “how are they hurting us?”

“They’re poison, Steve! I - - It’s why my PTSD symptoms have gotten so bad and Kevin and TJ’s seizures! I - - It’s probably why you’re so tired all the time! It’s Fisk!” Bucky insisted firmly, eyes still wide with fear and some disbelief.

“Okay, so Fisk is poisoning us with his paints. Why, Buck?” Steve touched his hip again, trying to ground him from this odd fright.

“I don’t know! Y - - you told him no, Steve! He’s a bad man, Stevie!” Bucky looked at his husband.

Cupping Bucky’s face, Steve kissed his forehead. “Okay, baby, stop shouting? You’ll wake Kevin and TJ back up.” He offered a small smile, eyes worried. “If it’s the paints, we won’t have any more problems. I gave them back this morning when I turned over the painting to him. We have nothing more to do with the man.”

“But . . . he was _poisoning_ us, Steve. We gotta call Sam . . . get him off the streets,” Bucky insisted firmly, though he’d dropped his voice to a quieter level.

“Sam’s already here. Bruce called him. I’m under investigation for hurting you and the boys, but it’s standard procedure. I’ve been assured they have to rule me and Ava out so they can concentrate on other suspects.” Steve kissed him again. “So, we’ll tell Sam your new theory so he can look into it, but without the paints or painting, I’m not sure they can find anything.” He was still in shock at being accused of hurting his family, so this new information about Fisk basically hadn’t sunk in at all.

“Y - - you believe me, right?” Bucky asked.

“Well, we all got worse once I started using the paints, and even worse when I came in covered in the stuff earlier, so yeah, it’s a big possibility, Bucky.” Steve touched foreheads. “My clever Bucky. Even in his sick bed he’s solving crimes and taking care of us.”

Bucky smiled, looking at his husband, “I think I figured it out, Steve.”

“Bucky, you did more than that,” Steve smiled softly, pulling away to meet his eyes. “If it’s the paints and Mr. Fisk, you put it together, too. We just need to find a way to test your theory . . . I’m not sure how they can do that without the paint, but the cops have all kinds of methods. Maybe they can test the fumes or the brushes or something.” Turning slightly, Steve called, “Sam? Did you hear?”

Sam, who’d been standing by the door unnoticed by Bucky, nodded, “yeah, I heard. I radioed over to the people sweeping your house to tell them what to look for.”

Steve turned back to Bucky with a smile. He couldn’t understand how come Fisk would hurt them, but he refused to belittle Bucky’s fears. He’d wait and see if they found anything first. Steve gently kissed his husband on the lips. “I love my clever Bucky so much,” he praised.

“I love you, too, Steve . . . we’re gonna get through this, right? Things are lookin’ up now,” Bucky smiled at his husband.

“They sure are. We’re all getting the treatments and once that’s cleared up, we can finish treating TJ’s tumor.” Steve smiled happily. “And Ava’s tested almost clean, so we don’t have to worry about her health. They’re going to monitor her and the baby, just in case.”

Bruce looked in with a knock, since everything was pretty much an open door at the moment. “Steve? We’ve gotten your results, and you definitely need the treatments, too. So, you’ll keep that IV. Riley and Sharon will take turns watching you four.”

Bucky settled back against his bed; for the first time in weeks, feeling like they were finally getting a handle on their situation . . . that things really were going to get better.

Steve pulled off his robe and switched into boxers. He settled next to Bucky on the bed and gave his husband a kiss.

**************

A few weeks passed by in a blur of treatments and questions. While it was too soon to see much improvement, at least none of them got worse, the toxic effects having been halted. Kevin’s seizures seemed to come at a rate of one every other day, and Bucky, with the relief of such intense stress and responsibility, hadn’t suffered any flashbacks or dissociations. TJ spent a majority of his time sleeping or playing the piano that they’d finally gotten installed in Kevin’s unused room, but he hadn’t had a single seizure since the one a few weeks prior.

Steve came up behind Bucky after dinner, while the kids worked on their homework: Ava and Daniel studying together in front of the darkened television and Kevin, with Julian, in his room with the door open. Daniel, since he had his license, drove Kevin back and forth to school every day as an added way to help the family, never questioning when Julian hopping into the car, or when he insisted at being dropped off at the school when Daniel and he left the clinic. Daniel suspected, but never said, that Julian might live in the school basement, that maybe his father was even the janitor and not really in jail like Kevin claimed.

Kissing the back of Bucky’s neck, Steve draped his arms gently over his husband’s shoulders and smiled. “Things going good, love?”

Bucky hummed, smiling softly, “yeah . . . Frank actually called me . . . yesterday?”

Smiling wide, Steve nodded, “I remember you getting a call. What’d he want?” Steve slid into the chair beside his husband.

“He was wondering if we could do lunch or something? I think he wants to check in on me,” Bucky offered Steve a smile.

“Well if you feel comfortable with meeting him, go ahead. I’m glad you’ve got friends, Bucky. You always seem to limited yourself to us and the Bartons and the Wilsons.” Steve kissed him; he also limited his outside contacts, often to the Bartons, the Wilsons, and people from the clinic.

Bucky nodded, “I told him we could meet either tomorrow or the next day, whenever he was free, but,” the brunet looked down at his phone and checked it, “he hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Well, when you hear from him, feel free to tell him _yes_ , baby. If you want me along, let me know. Otherwise, I plan to hang out here and rule the roost over the kids.” Steve stretched, relaxed and happy now that he didn’t have a current deadline to meet. Becca contacted him regularly about the gallery, so he knew she was handling his art business quite well, too. “Oh! Becca wants to talk to Ava tomorrow. She’s finally come to terms with Ava’s pregnancy and wants to talk to her about it.” He smiled at Bucky, glad Becca had finally come around.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “that’s good, I’m glad she’s finally calm enough to talk with her,” just then, the brunet’s phone dinged and he looked at it, “oh, it’s Frank. He says he’s available tomorrow for lunch. Wondered if you or the kids wanna come?” Bucky looked back up at Steve.

“Ask if he’ll come to the clinic to get you and drop you off? Bruce said he didn’t want you driving on those meds. If he can’t, we’ll get you an Uber.” Pausing, Steve said, “I’d love to come, and Kevin would be happy to get outside, I’m sure. We can ask TJ if he feels up to it.. But tomorrow is Becca and Ava’s meeting. I should really be here for them as a mediator. You can take the boys and dogs, right?”

Bucky nodded, “oh yeah, I can take Kevin and TJ, if he’s well enough. I think Frank is heading to the restaurant right after his shift, so we’ll take an Uber. I’ll see if Scott’s available.” After a quick look through the app on his phone, Bucky frowned, “Scott’s not available, says he’s on vacation, maybe he finally took that little girl of his to Disney World. He’s been talking about it for years. I guess we’ll just use a different driver.”

Nodding, Steve said, “I guess we have no choice. I’ve gotta get that license.” Steve didn’t mention that under the medication, he wasn’t permitted to drive, either, so they’d still need an Uber for the lunch date.

Humming, Bucky nodded his agreement, sending a text to Frank to confirm the time and place for their lunch the next day. Bucky looked over at Steve, “It’ll be good. I bet Kevin and TJ will like Frank, and like you said, it’ll be nice to get out for a few hours.”

Nodding happily, Steve kissed Bucky again. “I love you, sweetie.” Steve never hesitated to inform his husband of his love. He wasn’t sure just how Riley had calmed Bucky down after that last flashback, but Bucky had stopped apologizing for hurting him and accepted that Steve didn’t blame him.

“I love you, too, Steve,” Bucky smiled, leaning back in to kiss Steve again. “Sam call with any information on the tests they did on the house?”

“Said they had a few leads, but the labs are testing things. Preliminary says it’s in the pipes, baby, but he did mention they had found my palette on the shelf and were going to be submitting it for testing, too.” Steve sighed.

“The pipes?” Bucky frowned; he’d been so sure of his suspicions of Fisk using the paints to poison them. “But, that doesn’t make any sense? Why would the pipes all of a sudden carry a large amount of bismuth in them?”

“Bucky, Sam couldn’t explain the results, just what he’s gotten for a report. They’re still checking it. These things take months to look into. It’s why trials happen so much later than arrest.” Steve stroked Bucky’s hand then arm, tracing a careful circle around but not over the bruise remaining from one of the IV’s, which had been changed every few days and left the entire family looking like pin cushions. “They’ll test the palette, too, Bucky, just to be sure to rule out the paint.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky nodded, “Fisk just gives me the creeps, I guess . . .”

“Well, if you don’t trust him, I don’t trust him, Buck. Your instincts have always been better than mine.” Steve sighed again.

“So, that means, even when we all start to feel better and go back home . . . you won’t work for him again, right?” Bucky asked, pale eyes hopeful.

“I have no intention of willingly working for Wilson Fisk, Bucky,” Steve promised. He smiled and leaned in for a brief kiss. “I promise. Only under coercion could that man get me to work for him or go into a gallery business with him or anything.”

“Good,” Bucky nodded, smiling softly.

Whispering, Steve said, “and I think it’s the paints, too. It makes the most sense as to when we got sick and how bad we got. Why would the pipes suddenly change?” He echoed Bucky’s words.

Bucky nodded, “well, at least we don’t ever have to deal with Fisk again.”

A knock on the suite door drew Steve attention and he smiled, standing up to go get the door. Surprised, he backed up, letting Clint, alone, into the apartment. The pair of men walked back over to Bucky, Clint not looking over at Daniel. Clint looked thunderous.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky’s smile instantly dropped.

“The fuckin’ governor!” Clint ground out.

Steve’s eyes widened and he groaned. “Damn, I forgot! Shit! He . . . he didn’t, Clint . . . tell me he didn’t succeed?”

“What - - what’s going on?” Bucky looked between Clint and Steve, eyes wide and scared.

Clint shook his head, “the same night you had that flashback, the damn governor announced he was going to review prisoner records and release the ones on good behavior. Well, it passed. He’s releasing over two hundred prisoners with good time served records.”

“Releasing . . . oh - - no . . .” Bucky looked up at Steve.

Steve hugged him. “But he has to take into consideration _why_ they’re incarcerated, right?”

Clint shrugged. “That’s what he says he’s doing. Only the criminals with no past records, non-violent convictions, and good behavior.”

“But - - that’s not . . . Brock . . . he has a violent conviction!” Bucky said.

“It means Rollins will get out, Bucky,” Clint looked at him. “A dirty cop.”

“Rollins . . . not Brock? Brock’s gonna stay in, right?” Bucky pressed, tone desperate.

“The release isn't _supposed_ to include people with violent convictions, Bucky, and Rumlow has a conviction for attempted rape, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and for several charges of assault and stalking. The assault charges alone are _considered_ violent,” Clint said, but he sounded like he had more bad news.

“So . . . he’ll stay in, right, Clint?” Bucky pleaded, eyes wide.

Shaking his head, Clint leaned forward to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Natasha says Brock Rumlow is the governor’s cousin.”

Bucky closed his eyes, arm wrapping around himself, and he shook his head.

Steve enclosed Bucky in strong arms, tightly holding him. He nuzzled Bucky’s neck. “We can protest this. If enough people throw a fit, the governor can’t release him. He’s up for re-election, right?”

Clint threw his hands in the air. “Nope, he withdrew, saying he’s retiring.”

Steve let out a pathetic whimper.

“He’s getting out, Steve . . . he’s gonna get out,” Bucky mumbled brokenly.

Kevin came trotting out of his room, looking vibrant and so delicate and pretty. He grinned as he sidled up to the table with a picture he’d carefully colored, blending the colors like Steve had showed him. “Papa . . .” Kevin froze and frowned. “What happened?” he asked.

Opening his eyes, Bucky looked at the small eleven year old and smiled weakly, “it’s nothing, Kevin . . . show me what you colored.” The brunet had no idea how to bring up the fact that the man who’d originally sold Kevin was going to get out of prison . . . was going to be out on the streets once more.

Steve pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Sam and Riley. He put the phone to his ear, moving as if in a trance, fear welling in his body as the implications resounded in his head: Brock would hurt him, would steal Bucky, would sell Kevin and TJ . . . would force Ava to prostitution when he stole her, too. The horrors began to overwhelm him so when the cop answered, Steve was only able to whimper pathetically.

“I know, Steve,” Sam’s voice sounded just as angry as Clint’s, “we’ll figure this out, okay? I’m already working on a restraining order.”

Whimpering more, Steve forced words out, barely legible, “ness . . . tection . . .”

“I already asked about Witness Protection, Steve . . . the D.A. won’t go for it . . . I guess that department is overwhelmed, I’m sorry, Steve,” Sam reported.

Steve keened and dropped his phone, burying his face in his hands.

Clint groaned a bit at Steve’s actions and sounds. He leaned over and touched Bucky’s arm. “Bucky. Nat and I have some money stored up. We can help you guys go into hiding, move away somewhere.”

Blinking, Bucky looked at Clint, “w - - where would we go?” The brunet seemed to be in shock, eyes blank.

“I don’t know,” he sighed glancing towards the door, as if expecting someone to walk in. “Natasha might have some ideas.”

Kevin climbed up into Bucky’s lap and hugged him, sensing the fear and worry. He buried his face in Bucky’s neck.

“It’s okay, Kevin,” Bucky soothed, voice somewhat flat, as he rubbed the boy’s back, “it’s gonna be okay.”

Daniel looked over from the television area, frowning, hearing the odd sounds and tones. He touched Ava studying next to him. “Something’s wrong, Ava,” he said softly.

Looking up, Ava frowned softly and stood up, walking over, “what’s wrong?” 

Looking over at Ava, Bucky repeated, “it’s gonna be okay . . .”

Steve pulled his hands from his face, forcing his fears, his memories, down, calling on those years of abuse and training, the hiding he’d had to do. He said, “we’ll think of something. Sam’s thinking of something. He’s getting a restraining order, for us, Buck.” Something about his voice sounded strained and worried and so much like when they’d first reunited back eleven years before.

Bucky didn’t say that they’d had a restraining order the first time and Brock had _still_ gotten him. He just continued to hold Kevin.

Clint stood as his wife opened the door, knowing she’d taken so long because she had confronted Tony and Bruce to discuss safety at the clinic. They were going to try to convince stubborn Bucky to stay at the clinic for their entire treatment, maybe until Ava’d had the infant and recovered. Then they could help get the family out of New York.

Natasha looked at the family and nodded, knowing by their looks that Clint had already told them what was happening. “Tony and Bruce are upping security,” she reported, “it’d be best if you all stay here for a while, until everything gets under control.”

Nodding, Steve looked at his husband. “We can do that, right, Buck?” His voice sounded strained.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, not saying anything.

Kevin whimpered, “what’s happening? I’m scared. Everybody’s upset.”

“Some very bad men are getting out of prison, Tiger,” Bucky said in that same flat tone.

“The people who hurt you and Dad,” Kevin asked, beginning to tremble.

“Yes, but it’s going to be okay, we’ll be fine,” Bucky assured with a nod.

“If we’re going to be fine why are you and Dad so upset?” Kevin challenged.

“Because adults get scared, too, Tiger, even if we’ll be fine, we can still be scared,” Bucky stated.

Kevin raised his head and said, “it’s okay to be scared, Papa.” He hugged Bucky, still trembling himself. “If the bad guys come around, the guards will catch them.”

“Exactly, that’s why we’ll be fine,” Bucky repeated, trying to reassure himself, though it was obvious that the Brooklyn police force wouldn’t help them . . . they needed help and Bucky knew a certain Manhattan detective might give that help.

Steve bent down to pick up his phone, ignoring the shattered screen. He put it to his ear, “Sam?” he asked, not expecting the cop to have stayed on the line so long. No answer came to Steve, confirming his expectations. Nodding, he carefully managed to turn the phone off and set it on the table. He knew he’d have to replace his phone, had to ask Bucky for the money to do that. Blinking, Steve shook himself, reminding himself that Bucky wouldn’t be angry that Steve dropped the phone. “We should get Kevin to bed, and Julian needs to go home unless he got permission to sleep over?” Steve couldn’t recall if the boy had said he had permission or not, too much had happened.

“I can walk,” Julian said, having been silently watching.

“No, I’ll bring you,” Daniel said. He hugged Ava and looked to his parents. “I’ll be careful. Come on, Jules, let’s go.”

Julian nodded and followed Daniel out of the room.

Once in the car, Daniel drew a breath and said, “want me to walk you up to the school door, Julian?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Julian assured.

Nodding, Daniel started his car, “you _do_ live in the school, right? You’ve got a roof over your head?”

“Sometimes,” Julian shrugged, buckling up.

“If you can’t get in, come back to the car. If you can, I’ll leave after I get to a hundred, okay?” Daniel looked down at the kid.

“Okay, whatever you say, Boss,” Julian answered.

“I’m serious, Julian. These guys getting out hurt that family real bad. I mean real bad. I don’t want you to be a target, too. You’re a pretty nice kid.” Daniel frowned.

“I’ll be fine,” Julian repeated.

Nodding, starting the car, Daniel said, “I’ll count to one hundred.” They pulled off into the night.


	14. Fisk Makes His Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Kidnapping, Violence, Threats, Abuse, Sexual Threats, Seizures**

Kevin seemed listless and worried the next morning as he ate his eggs and toast, refusing bacon. He had already fed Avenger and Malakai and just seemed to sit there, drooping a bit. More food was moved around the plate than found its way into his mouth. TJ sat by the smaller boy, looking slightly more awake than he had all week. The twelve year old watched Kevin with worried pale eyes; Steve had explained to him once he’d woken up what had happened and TJ knew the men getting out of prison had to be really bad to spook the family so badly.

Bucky had refused breakfast altogether, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold anything down if he tried. He watched Kevin with a worried expression, Steve and Ava had already finished their breakfast and were getting ready for their meeting with Becca. “Kevin? You alright, Tiger?”

The boy looked up at his adoptive father. “Papa?” he asked very softly.

“I asked if you were okay, Tiger,” Bucky prompted gently.

“I feel okay, Papa,” he practically whispered. Kevin reached for the plate of medication and his apple juice, taking the pills one at a time between sips to wash them down. He moved with a slight trembling.

Nodding, Bucky stood up and looked around, listening for Steve. “Steve?” Bucky called.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve came out of Ava’s room, where he’d been softly talking to her.

“Frank was able to meet earlier,” Bucky reported.

Nodding, still worried for Bucky leaving the safety of the clinic, Steve didn’t forbid the visit. Bucky was meeting a cop, and Brock shouldn’t have been able to get out so soon, so this was the safest time of any for them to go to meet Detective Castle. “Did you make sure to look up the driver’s credentials, baby?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, slipping his phone in his back pocket; he looked at Kevin and TJ, “c’mon, guys, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Kevin stood and fastened Avenger’s vest and leash on. He then fastened Malakai’s on for TJ. “Okay, Papa,” the boy said, grabbing for Bucky’s prosthetic hand to hold onto.

Steve nodded, kissing Bucky then Kevin then TJ. “Stay aware and be safe, love. If you need anything, call Ava. My phone’s not working.”

TJ took Malakai’s leash and followed the other two towards the door. Bucky nodded, returning the kiss before guiding the boys out to the waiting Uber that would take them to meet Frank.

One Uber sat there, the stocky, dark-haired driver politely helping Becca from the front seat. He smiled at the dark-haired woman and thanked her for allowing him to drive her, polite and conscientious. As she walked up to the waiting males, the driver tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “Hello, I’m here to pick up a man, boys, and service animals? A James Rogers?”

Bucky gave the man a small smile, “that’d be us, thank you for picking us up.” He gave his sister a quick hug as she passed before entering the clinic.

The driver opened the back door and offered a hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a booster. I wasn’t told one of the children would be underweight, sir.” He smiled at the trio.

Kevin leaned into Bucky, trembling and silent, eyes huge.

“That’s fine, I didn’t say, slipped my mind as well,” Bucky said, giving the driver another gentle smile as he ushered Kevin towards the car.

Kevin seemed unusually reticent, letting out a small whimper; he’d been pretty upset since the night before. He pressed into Bucky harder, burying his face in his Papa’s side.

The driver didn’t seem upset but he looked worried. “Is he having an anxiety attack? I got a girl back home gets scared in large groups. Hey, buddy, you’ll be fine. I promise to drive real careful.”

Bucky rubbed Kevin’s back, “it’ll be okay, Kevin, if you want, though, you can stay here with Dad?”

Kevin clutched Bucky at that, shaking his head in the man’s side, whimpering.

“Maybe you can sit in the back with him, Mr. Rogers? Might make him feel better? The dog can fit on the floor or even ride up front with me, if you prefer,” the driver offered solicitously.

Bucky nodded, “c’mon, Kevin,” the brunet gently ushered the boy into the back of the car, patting the seat for Avenger to follow.

Kevin went where Bucky moved him, clinging like a leech. Once inside the car, the dog followed the boy. With a nod, the driver moved around to the other side to help TJ and Malakai in then got into the driver’s seat and looked through his mirror. “Fasten belts, please? This is a safe car,” he chuckled in a friendly manner, a soothing public service type manner. A copy of the man’s license was posted for their perusal, claiming that the driver was a man named Rolf Jackson.”

Bucky buckled Kevin in and then himself, wrapping his one arm around the boy’s shoulder. He looked around Kevin’s small frame to give a small smile to TJ who returned the smile though the boy’s eyes were flickering worriedly to Kevin. Bucky had to pull out his phone and search through his messages to confirm the address of the cafe where he was meeting Frank. The car had already started, pulling past the security gate for the clinic’s underground parking, and headed into the heavy traffic before Bucky managed to find his destination. Looking up, Bucky frowned; he was pretty sure the driver was supposed to turn the other way out of the clinic.

“Sir? What’s the address, please?” the driver asked in a friendly manner.

Bucky looked down at Kevin, hadn’t he already said the address? Shaking his head, Bucky repeated it, just assuming he’d simply thought he’d spoken the address already.

“Ah, sorry. I’ll turn around. Don’t worry, won’t charge you for my mistake,” he laughed. The man signaled and turned off on a side street to presumably make his turn around.

Kevin whimpered and mumbled something into Bucky’s shoulder.

“What was that, Tiger?” Bucky quietly asked, leaning down.

“Don’t like Jackie,” he said softly, trembling.

“Jackie?” Bucky frowned.

“Sorry? Jackson, sir. My name is Rolf Jackson? It’s on the license I have posted for your verification.” The driver smiled into the mirror and made another side street turn, now headed in the proper direction.

“Right, sorry,” Bucky nodded and squeezed Kevin’s shoulders. “We’ll be there before ya know it, Kevin.”

“Mama was ‘fraid of Jackie,” Kevin whimpered into Bucky’s side.

“Who’s Jackie, Kevin?” Bucky asked, looking down at the boy.

“He likes . . . closet . . .” Kevin whimpered, his body shaking hard enough to jostle Bucky.

Looking up again, Bucky noted that they were close enough to walk the rest of the way to their destination, “um . . . Jackson? We can walk from here, Kevin needs some air.”

“Rolf,” The driver corrected merrily. “Rolf Jackson.” He continued to drive.

“Rolf, then, can you please pull over?” Bucky pushed.

“Is the kid sick?” he sounded worried and pulled over to the curb. A pair of men opened the doors on either side and a gun pressed to Bucky’s temple. “Cause I’d sure hate to have to clean the guy’s car before I give it back,” the driver continued.

Bucky’s eyes widened; he couldn’t do anything to the man on his left side, his arm still wrapped around Kevin.

“Now,” the driver said and turned around, smiling pleasantly, “keep calm and don’t struggle or I shoot the dogs. Then I shoot the kids. It’s you he wants, not them.” His eyes roved over Kevin, “though I might let the kids live. They’re pretty.”

“Then, let them go, please, I won’t fight . . . just let them go?” Bucky pleaded. “You can take me . . . they’re just boys.”

“Okay, a compromise, I can bargain,” the man nodded to his men and one took the leashes, leading the well-trained dogs from the car. “We let the dogs go and see what he wants before I let the kids go. Insurance of your cooperation and all, Mr. Barnes . . . Rogers, sorry. Mr. Rogers.”

Bucky held Kevin close, heart pounding as he tried to think of a way to get out of this, get Kevin and TJ out.

TJ’s eyes were wide and his fingers tapped against his thighs.

The man who’d brought the dogs out waited as another came forward to replace him, blocking the door. On Bucky’s side, the man with the gun said, “nice and slow, Barnes, right? That’s the name?”

“Rogers,” the driver corrected, smiling amiably, as if this wasn’t a kidnapping at all. “He married Steve Rogers. You recall? That pretty blond that was so damn good at cleaning and cooking?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the driver, keeping Kevin close to him.

The driver nodded and got out of the Uber car. “Now, out of the cab real calm. You can hold the kids for now, but if you act up, I’ll have you separated. Got it? He wants to talk to you, not the boys.”

Nodding, Bucky carefully eased out of the car, keeping his son tucked against his side as he watched all three men. He looked back at TJ as the tall, thin twelve year old slipped out of the car behind them.

As three men surrounded Bucky and the two boys, the one with the visible gun very carefully holding it angled towards Kevin’s head at that moment, the man with the dogs continued to stand there, merely watching. The driver nodded. “Knew you could be reasonable. Come on. Just up stairs. If things work out, it’ll be over before you know it and I’ll be happy to drive you where you need to go.”

“Don’t kill ‘venger,” Kevin whimpered.

“They won’t,” Bucky assured his scared son, “it’ll be okay.” He could feel his phone still in his pocket; he just needed to figure out a way to get it out and get help. He pulled Kevin closer, hoping the boy would be able to feel the device. He glanced behind him to check on TJ again, making sure he kept closeby.

The group moved the pair into a narrow stairwell and up three flights. At the top, on the fourth floor, the driver nodded. “Right in here, please. He’ll be here soon.” He gestured towards a small apartment, opening the door.

As soon as they got inside and the men stopped surrounding them, Kevin let out a keen and buried his face again, trembling violently.

“It’s gonna be alright, Kevin, deep breaths for me, yeah? C’mon, in and out,” Bucky held his son close, keeping his eyes on the men, still aware of TJ, who seemed exhausted after the climb.

“That kid’s really got anxiety bad, huh? Poor little guy. Rough being scared all the time at what? Seven? Eight maybe?” The driver gestured towards a small couch that had seen better days, though the sheet over it was relatively clean. “Don’t worry. He had fresh sheets laid down for you in all the rooms. Place was fumigated two weeks ago, so no bugs even. The four star treatment.” He didn’t sound condescending in the least, just congenial and pleasant. “No, Mr. Rogers, you settle the boys nice and quiet on the couch and come back here to the door so I don’t slip and hit one of them by mistake.

Bucky watched the man warily, slowly backing up, keeping his arm around Kevin. He needed his son to calm down; the last thing they needed was him to have a seizure. “Who wants to talk with me?” Swallowing thickly, Bucky turned and settled the two boys on the couch, making sure they were close to one another.

Blinking, the driver looked at Bucky. “Seriously? Can you think of more than one man who would go to this trouble to talk to you?”

Eyes narrowing, Bucky took a deep breath, “why wouldn’t he just call and set up an appointment, then? Kidnapping is a little extreme.”

Nodding, the driver seemed to find that a reasonable challenge. “Well, he hasn’t said much to me since I was hired yesterday, but I believe it’s because you keep interfering with his attempts to meet with pretty Steve.”

Just then, Bucky’s phone went off and he tried to get it out of his pocket.

One of the men roughly took the phone and glanced at it. He grunted and handed it to the driver, who looked it over. “Shall I answer for you? Need your password to do that.” He looked over at Bucky.

Glaring, Bucky told the man his passcode, panic settling in as he lost his one chance at alerting someone that he and the boys were in trouble.

Nodding, he responded, “will wanna change it once you get your phone back. Security and all.” He tapped in the password and looked at the messages. “Frank wonders if things are okay. You’re late for lunch. Should I give him a message?”

“Yeah, wanna tell him my sons and I were abducted? That’d be great,” Bucky snapped, stepping closer to the boys on the couch.

“What’s the kids’ names?” The driver asked, reasonable sounding. “What’s your name, buddy?”

The boy looked up and said, “Julian.” It was perhaps the first time Bucky had ever heard his son lie.

The driver nodded, “I meant the kid that belongs to you, Mr. Rogers. What’s his name?”

“Screw you,” TJ glared viciously.

Kevin almost whispered, “he’s Dougie.”

Bucky didn’t correct the wrong names that Kevin had given, just continued to stand protectively in front of them.

The man shook his head and said, "need to teach your boy not to swear.” He then recited as he typed out, “Julian had panic attack. Dougie is grounded. Meet another time.” He smiled and sent the message. “Okay, that’s taken care of.”

Bucky hoped by that text, Frank would realize something was very wrong and would be able to track the phone.

The door opened just as the driver slid Bucky’s phone into his pocket. A tall, very large man in black walked in, an elegant walking stick in one hand and several rings on both. He took in the sight of the man and children on the couch and the four men standing, one with a visible weapon. Nodding, he said, “Mr. Rogers. These accommodations are the wrong setting for our meeting. Please, allow me to provide better. Jack, while he’s going to the den, I’ll need you to check on our newest employee. He’ll be arriving today.”

Nodding, the driver, called Jack by Fisk, Jackie by Kevin, and Rolf Jackson on that possibly phony license, walked out the door without a word. The man with the gun put it to Bucky’s head. “Stand slow.”

“Fisk,” Bucky stood slowly, “let the boys go. You can keep me.”

“Mr. Rogers,” Fisk stated, “why would I do that? They will be looked after quite well in our keeping. We even are prepared for any medical contingencies due to their seizure disorders.”

“Please . . . I’ll go wherever you want . . . just let them go . . . it’s me you want, right?” Bucky pleaded, his main focus now on getting Kevin and TJ out of this.

“Actually, any of you should be sufficient to convince your husband that he would be wise to accept my business offer.” Fisk followed the men into the hall and down the back steps. Before the solid, windowless fire door, Fisk stopped them with the flick of a hand. “Now, please do forgive the necessity, especially as I don’t intend the children to be so frightened. But we cannot have you memorizing your way around, can we?” He nodded and the three were all blindfolded. However, the small boy had stopped trembling, slowly, as Jack had left and stayed away; he didn’t seem afraid of Fisk.

“Why do you need Steve to work for you?” Bucky asked, not even bothering to try and turn his head towards Fisk’s direction.

Bucky was firmly guided outside and into a vehicle, his head held down to push him in before being released. Kevin, having been pulled out of his arms, was placed in Bucky’s lap. TJ was picked up and gently placed beside Bucky, treated as a delicate parcel. The car shifted under the greater bulk of Fisk, who hadn’t answered, then the doors closed and the vehicle purred onto the road and into traffic. “Now,” the man said, “to answer your questions. Would you mind repeating yourself, Mr. Rogers? I was unfortunately preoccupied and do not think I heard it correctly.”

“Why do you want Steve to work for you so badly,” Bucky repeated, arm once more wrapped securely around Kevin. He extended his fingers to make sure TJ was there as well; he stroked the boy’s shoulder gently.

“Because, Mr. Rogers, your husband is the most honest, hard working, and polite man I have had the pleasure of encountering. Do you know how rare such a combination is in business? It’s a breath of fresh air, to use a colloquialism.” Fisk’s voice sounded full of admiration.

“So, you want him working for you because he’s a good guy?” Bucky sounded confused.

“Exactly,” Mr. Fisk agreed wholeheartedly. “You see, if he works for me, I will know that I can trust him. Whatever he says, whatever he does, wherever the money goes, he will be honest. He will be the one man I know will not try to rob me. Unfortunately, you have not given us a chance to form a business relationship beyond that one painting.”

“He told you _no_ , that’s not my fault,” Bucky said, “he won’t work for a man like you, Fisk.”

“A man like me?” Fisk’s voice dropped the pleasant tone and went quieter. “And would you mind explaining what you mean by that?”

“A man like you . . . you poisoned us . . . and now you’ve abducted myself and my sons,” Bucky ground out, “my husband is worth a hundred of you and would never work for you.”

“I see,” anger ranged low under his calm tone. He moved, rocking the still moving car a bit, and said, “we will see if he decides to accept my business proposition, Mr. Rogers. In fact, we will see just how much you really mean to him.” The man fell silent for the duration of the ride.

Finally, the smooth riding vehicle pulled off the road and parked. The door opened beside Bucky and someone roughly grabbed Kevin out of his arms, a cold metal cylinder pressing to Bucky’s head. “Not a sound,” the voice came from the open door.

Bucky tried to reach blindly for his son, panic soaring through him as he could no longer feel Kevin. Someone also removed TJ, Bucky found out when he touched nothing beside him.

“The kids’re gonna go inside with you so calm down, mister, and get outta the limo.” The cylinder moved from Bucky’s temple.

Releasing a deep breath, Bucky clumsily got out of the car, stumbling slightly due to the blindfold. He wanted to fight, get Kevin and TJ out of this, but there was no way he could take down all these men by himself. He reached out blindly. 

Kevin was thrust into his arms, but not on his feet. Someone pushed TJ right up against Bucky’s side. They weighed Bucky down, despite the prosthetic, with the weight of the small sized preteen. Kevin slid his arms around his father’s neck and tried to remain still for him, whispering in his ear, “I’m here, Papa. Jackie’s not.”

“We’re gonna get outta this, okay, guys?” Bucky whispered, wrapping his arm around his son.

“I know we will. I’m sorry I was so scared, Papa,” Kevin's voice sounded worried and still scared, but a hell of a lot calmer without Jack around. “They didn’t shoot Avenger or Malakai, did they? When we got in the limousine?”

“No, Avenger and Malakai are safe and sound,” Bucky assured his son, not knowing if he was lying or not.

“Papa, I have a secret,” Kevin whispered right against Bucky’s ear.

Bucky simply hummed softly, signaling his son to tell him his secret.

“You have a black cloth on your eyes and mine’s yellow,” Kevin said, “and I can see through it in the light.”

Bucky nodded, hugging his son tightly.

Finally, the small group got up a long driveway or paved road of some sort. They stopped and someone took Bucky’s arm to help him up a set of wooden steps. They guided him over a wooden porch and through two creeky doors, one sounding heavier than the other. Once inside, Bucky was guided to a room on the right and eased onto a soft, velvety couch. The blindfold was removed.

Blinking, trying to get used to the sudden change in light, Bucky looked around, trying to figure out where he was. A pleasantly appointed drawing room in what could only be one of the old victorian houses outside of the city gave him the image of faded glory. The beautiful painting Steve had made hung on the wall, above the mantel, kept out of direct sunlight but looking out of place with it’s fresh look in this old room. Fisk once more stood in front of Bucky, leaning on his cane. Bucky glared at the man, his prosthetic arm whirring as he clenched his fists.

“Now, perhaps you would care for something to eat?” Fisk asked pleasantly.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Bucky growled, wanting nothing more than to attack the man standing in front of him and get his boys to safety. He knew, if he aimed right and punched hard enough, the metal fist could easily knock a man out with one blow. But there were four men at the least and one had a gun, maybe more.

Fisk nodded. “And your boys? Perhaps they are hungry? Thirsty?”

Bucky looked over at the kids, frowning softly. “You hungry, Kevin? TJ? Want anything to drink?”

“I’m fine, Papa, thank you,” Kevin replied softly, as he’d been taught.

“Not hungry,” TJ answered, glaring at the large man. “My Momma was right not to like you!”

Fisk looked impressed. “A well behaved child. You and your husband must be proud of the wonderful job you have done with him. I understand the other is grieving and can be allowed some leniency at the moment.”

Bucky watched Fisk warily, eyes tracking the large man’s every move, “we are. Of both of them.”

“And the troubles of raising a teenager. But, I’m sure you manage well with the girl?” Fisk asked, politely, as if they were meeting for social reasons and not in a kidnapping.

The politeness put Bucky on edge; his lips set in a firm line and the metal arm recalibrated, the plates shifting in his irritation and anxiety as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

Nodding, Fisk shifted with a sigh. “Well, I will leave you to get acquainted with your temporary residence, Mr. Rogers. I will be in contact with you again when you are in a more amiable frame of mind for negotiation. For now, I leave you with the company of an old friend.” He gestured towards the door as a black-haired, rugged looking man walked in, face scarred from a bad knife fight but still recognizable. Fisk walked out. “Don’t kill them, Mr. Rumlow. I need them as insurance. And do not permanently mar any of them.”

Bucky immediately stood and pushed Kevin and TJ behind him, backing them up, away from Brock.

Brock grinned, his scars pulling the face into a distorted grimace. He nodded and the other three men blocked the exits. “So, miss me, Bucky boy?” he rasped hoarsely.

Bucky looked around, trying to find anything he could use against Brock; he still stood between the scarred man and his boys. His heart pounded in his chest and he swallowed when he realized there was no way out and nothing but his fists he could use to defend himself, TJ, and Kevin.

“So, you missed me enough to lose the power of speech? That’s fine. I don’t mind quiet.” He leaned sideways to glimpse the boys behind Bucky then straightened, “I thought you had a little girl? You been hiding a kid from pretty Stevie?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, watching Brock intently.

Nodding, as if Bucky had answered him, Rumlow said, “but of course, she’d be grown up by now, wouldn’t she? So, who’s the blond boy? You adopt another kid, Bucky, or sleep with a blond woman?”

Reaching behind him, Bucky stroked Kevin’s soft hair, still watching the scarred man.

“Now you’re beginning to annoy me.” Brock frowned. “I’ve asked several polite questions and you’re playing dumb. I knew you were taken from me too soon.” Nodding, Brock fingered his belt with both hands. “I’ll teach you manners.”

Bucky continued to remain silent; he hoped if he could infuriate Brock enough, that the man would ignore Kevin and TJ. He had to keep Brock’s anger on him.

“Okay, gotta train you from the beginning,” Brock shook his head. He gestured to one of the other man and Kevin was grabbed and pulled away from Bucky, a gun placed to the boy’s head. Kevin’s eyes opened wide but he stayed quiet, eyes locked on Bucky.

“It’s okay,” Bucky assured his son. Still standing in front of TJ who hadn’t been forced away yet.

“Ah, he does remember how to speak,” Brock grinned that grotesque leer once more. “So, let’s start again. Who’s the kid?”

“My son,” Bucky answered with a glare.

“Oh? So, you knocked up some girl behind Steve’s back? I knew you were a slut!” Brock studied Kevin without getting closer. “Huh, it’s a boy, right? Dressed like a boy . . . but _you_ said son, so that’s a boy. What’s his name?”

“None of your business,” Bucky snarled.

Nodding, Brock grinned. “Oh, back talk? Now, what kind of manners are you teaching that sweet, pretty little boy, Bucky? What a bad father you are.” He looked over at Kevin. “It’s okay, kid, your daddy’s just scared. I’m sure he’s taught you better than that. What’s your name?”

“Julian,” Kevin replied like he had before.

“Don’t talk to him,” Bucky growled low, looking at Rumlow, arm whirring as he clenched his left hand into a fist.

“Sorry, Papa,” Kevin said softly.

Brock shook his head. “Nice way to scare the kid, Bucky. Just makes me know you’re even worse of a father, threatening him like that.”

“I don’t threaten him . . . I’m not a monster like you,” Bucky snapped, snarling.

“Then why’d he think you were talking to him and not me?” Brock growled low. “I think you threaten and beat that poor kid.” He eyed Kevin. Looking back at Bucky, Brock said, “and your other kid? What’s his name? Hey, boy, what’s your name?”

“Don’t gotta tell you anything,” TJ snarled and Bucky glanced over his shoulder and then back at Brock, backing up another step closer to the brunet boy.

Brock frowned, his face twisting once more with the scar. “Rude little kid, just like you, Bucky. He’ll have to be trained, too. At least you got one angel.”

“You’re not laying a hand on either one of them,” Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking between Kevin and Brock.

“I got a kid, you know? He’d be older than your Julian, though.” Looking back at Bucky, Brock grinned menacingly, “and I ain’t never threatened or laid a hand on _my_ son.”

“Just your boyfriend, right?” Bucky snapped.

Laughing, Brock shook his head, “Yeah, I lay my hands on my boyfriend when I get a chance, but it’s been kinda hard the last few years, being locked away and all.”

“That’s where you belong, locked in a cage like the animal you are,” Bucky snarled. 

“The honorable Governor of New York disagrees with you on that. I’ve got parole for good behavior, ‘cause I’m not a threat to society.” Brock grinned. “Maybe he’ll be locking up child abusers like you ‘stead of honest guys like me.”

Bucky glared at Brock, not saying anything.

Nodding, Brock looked back at Kevin then TJ, “bring them up to that third bedroom, the one that looks over that nice backyard. Make sure that window’s sealed real good. This one looks like a little monkey.” There was something eerily paternal in the criminal’s voice, as if he was fond of Kevin.

The man with the gun lead Kevin, unresisting, from the room. A second one pulled out a gun and pointed it directly at TJ. He began forcing the older boy from the room. Kevin looked back at Brock and mouthed something at him. He let himself be led upstairs, trying to look brave. Brock nodded. “Good, now we can get down to business, without the boy seeing. Shouldn’t start them too early, should you? He’ll learn what it’s like to have a boyfriend all too soon.” Brock began unfastening his belt.

Bucky took advantage of Brock having his hands busy; he launched himself at the man and aimed a solid swing with his metal limb at the scarred man. But, he’d miscalculated and barely managed to brush Brock’s jaw.

Brock caught him up in arms strong from continual prison workouts. He pulled Bucky tight, and growled. “Yeah, anything I taught you, you forgot.” He shook his head, flexing his jaw a bit. “Okay, time to start over. Come on, Bucky,” Brock continued to speak as he tugged Bucky to his feet.

The lean brunet thrashed, trying to hit Brock wherever he could reach, actually thankful he’d worn his prosthetic that day; he could do a lot of damage with the heavy limb.

Brock laughed. “Oh, even feistier than before! Must be really looking for a good cock since Steve couldn’t satisfy you, or you wouldn’t have been looking for a woman.” Grinning widely, Brock nodded and the man with him grabbed Bucky. “It’s okay, Bucky. Mr. Fisk gave me very specific instructions. I’m to keep you here and not kill you. Same with little Julian and your other kid. So, short of that, I can do whatever I need to discipline you guys . . . as long as it’s not permanent.” Another man came into the room and grabbed Bucky, too.

Bucky fought against the men holding him, thrashing wildly and managing to kick one’s shin.

Brock pulled back and punched Bucky hard in the side of the head, near the eye but missing it.

Seeing stars, Bucky’s knees gave out for a second. The only thing holding him up were the men at either side.

“The cripple shouldn’t carry weapons,” Brock growled in admonishment. He reached over and tore at Bucky’s shirt sleeve, baring the connections and pulling them apart, releasing the prosthetic. He slid it down, out the sleeve, and held it up.”Okay, now that’s better . . . damn, that’s heavy. Must hurt a lot, Bucky!”

Blinking, Bucky’s eyes focused back on Brock and he gave a small growl. He stood back straight, the man on the left now gripping his stump tightly, and spat at the scarred man, “go to hell!”

Putting the arm on the nearby table, Brock chuckled. He unfastened his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his jeans, the other two men holding Bucky.

Fighting hard again, Bucky stomped on the foot of the man on his right, yelping when he met a steel toed boot.

Laughing, Brock looped the belt as if he would beat Bucky with it. He snapped the leather. “So, gonna fight, Bucky? You don’t remember how nice I am if you obey and work hard?”

Continuing to pull against the men holding him, Bucky used his other foot to kick the man’s shin again, hard.

The guy yelped and twisted Bucky’s arm. “Asshole!”

Brock sighed. “Warned you,” he shook his head. “Bring him upstairs and tie him up. I guess it’s time to bring the kids in to see what happens to men who disobey their boyfriends.”

“No! Leave them out of it!” Bucky’s eyes widened and he fought harder, frantically, kicking again.

Brock lashed out with the belt, just missing Bucky’s left shoulder and side. “Be still, bitch, or I mark ya!” he sounded angry. The man holding Bucky’s stump squeezed the shoulder.

Gasping, Bucky’s left shoulder lit up in pain and he slumped slightly as the already damaged nerves flared painfully.

Brock nodded. He looped the belt around Bucky’s neck and pulled it tight, tugging the man towards the steps. If Bucky didn’t follow, he’d choke. “Now, you will obey and learn or I will have to punish Julian and nameless, won’t I? After all, if _you_ won’t please me, I’ll make Julian or the other one do _your_ work.”

“No - - no . . . I’ll do it . . .” Bucky promised, stumbling to follow where he was tugged.

Brock got him up the stairs and into the second bedroom. There was no window, it having been boarded over, no glass in the frame. Brock grinned and locked them both in. “Now, why don’t you have a seat on that bed, Bucky boy. See? Much nicer than your first room. You have furniture in this one.” He released the belt from the loop but retained the leather in his hand.

Stumbling forward, Bucky sat on the edge of the bed; he couldn’t let Brock hurt Kevin or TJ. He’d do whatever he could to keep that from happening.

Brock studied Bucky. “Well, the shirt needs to come off. Can’t have my boyfriend wearing ripped clothes, can I? People will think I can’t take care of him right. Take it off.”

Shuddering, Bucky shakily removed the shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He didn’t bother trying to cover himself up, letting Brock see the damaged flesh of his left side.

“Hey, more scars than last time, but you look a lot better without the crippled arm. If I had known that, I’d have removed it for you years ago, Bucky boy.” Brock nodded. He opened his mouth when someone started slamming on the door, loud.

Turning, Brock unlocked the door and hurried out, but there was no masking the other man when he screamed, “I swear I didn’t do nothin’! He just started shaking and foaming at the mouth!” The door shut and locked.

Bucky hurried over to the door, pounding on it wildly, “he’s having a seizure! Please! Let me help him!” He kept pounding and kicking at the door.

After about five minutes, the door unlocked and Brock opened it. He frowned at Bucky. “Come with me.” He turned and walked back down the hall to Kevin and TJ’s prison.

Following Brock, Bucky looked into the boys’ room.

The small blond lay on the floor, looking dazed to near unconsciousness in his postictal state. TJ knelt right by Kevin, glaring at any of the men that got too close to the smaller boy. The smell of human waste drifted from the boy and the gunman knelt by the boy’s head, a look of horror on his face. Brock pointed to the boy. “What the fuck, Bucky? The kid had a seizure. What the fuck’s wrong with him and why didn’t you tell us so we could take care of his ass! That’s real irresponsible!” Brock turned a glare on Bucky. “Help him!”

Bucky immediately knelt by Kevin, “he has epilepsy,” the brunet ground out before turning back to the boy to coo gently at his son, trying to bring him back. He looked at TJ to make sure the brunet was okay before returning his attention back to Kevin.

Kevin blinked a couple of times and let out the barest whimper, fear and confusion filling his grey eyes.

“Epilepsy? Huh, I know a woman had that. Named Crystal. Freaky as hell when she started seizing.” Brock crossed his arms and glared as his gunman. “Oh, get outta here and change your fuckin’ pants! And find something for Julian! Can’t leave a kid in messy pants!”

The man darted from the room as if the devil was on his heels.

Brushing Kevin’s hair from his forehead, Bucky continued to sooth his son, “you’re alright . . . you’re okay. C’mon, Tiger, you’re okay.”

Kevin whimpered again and moved slightly, his body hard to control in his after-seizure lethargy and weakness. “Pa . . .” he whimpered out and fell back silent.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” Bucky assured, he turned back to Brock, “can I get a wet towel or something to wash him?”

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on him. Bathroom’s down the hall, Bucky.” Brock watched the kid with a frown.

Bucky didn’t want to leave Kevin and TJ alone with Brock but didn’t see any choice; he hurried from the room and into the bathroom where he got a few towels wet with warm water and hurried back.

The man with the gun came out of the bedroom across the hall from the kids’ and thrust some clothes at Bucky. “You got one freaky kid. Glad it’s you and not me!” He crossed himself and hurried downstairs.

Bucky juggled the clothes and towels one-armed and went back into the bedroom.

Brock looked over and shook his head. He grabbed the dry clothes, “here, I got those. You clean Julian up. Make him comfortable.” Apparently, Brock not only didn’t fancy children, as Steve had claimed years ago, but since having his own, he cared for them a little bit. It was a very odd juxtaposition with the rapist and abuser Bucky knew.

Quickly, but thoroughly, Bucky stripped and then cleaned Kevin, working as fast as he could with one arm, TJ helping Bucky wherever he could. After the smaller boy was clean, Bucky looked at Brock, “give me the clothes.”

Nodding, not correcting Bucky for the rude command, he handed over the extra large t-shirt. “No kids clothes in the place,” he said in explanation.

Nodding, Bucky quickly slipped the shirt on his son; it was large enough to come down to his shins when he stood, like a long dress.

“Got another if you wanna use it kind of like a loin cloth for the kid?” Brock offered, holding it out.

Bucky grabbed the other shirt and struggled to get it situated around Kevin’s groin.

“Here I got it,” Brock grunted and knelt down, quickly forming a loin cloth and fastening it to Kevin’s small waist. He sat back and nodded. Not once did he try anything sexual on the kid. “There. Now he’s ready for bed, I think. Does he need water?” Brock carefully picked up the boy and put him on the bed. “Damn, he’s just a little thing, ain’t he? What’s Fisk thinkin’ of, putting a kid like him through this?” The man shook his head and turned, standing between Bucky and the bed, crossing his arms. “Your other boy, he’s the one with the tumor, right? Fisk said one had cancer.”

TJ crossed his arms at Brock and snapped, “like you care at all. You’re just a bad man. Takin’ people is bad.”

Brock’s eyes fell on Julian and he said, “I can forgive him the rudeness. Must be feelin’ all kinds scared and sick. But he oughta learn to be nicer to adults or he’ll get the backhand of someone one of these days.”

“You can let them go, drop them off at a hospital. Please . . . I’ll stay here, I’ll do whatever you guys want . . . just let my sons go, please,” Bucky begged, voice shaking, knowing that Kevin and TJ needed to get out of this stressful situation, “please . . . I’ll stay here . . . let them go.”

Brock nodded. “I hear your plea but I can’t do anything about it. Fisk will have me killed if I let the kids go before he says I can. He’s not the most patient man. Hates to be challenged, especially in front of others.” Brock shrugged. “You’re welcome to get them some water or food, Bucky. Free run of the house as long as I’m with them. ‘Cause I can tell you won’t run away without them. Fisk probably figured out your weakness, too.” The man slipped down to sit on the bed and lean over Kevin, “looks so delicate, don’t he? Must scare you to death letting him go to school. What grade’s he in? Second?”

“Seventh. He’s eleven. Small for his age,” Bucky answered, standing up.

“My kid’s eleven, too. Haven’t seen him since I went to jail, thank you for that,” Brock gave Bucky a menacing glare, promising silently to make him pay for that separation. “But you didn’t have a son back then. You had a daughter . . . niece.”

“Yeah, I did, still do,” Bucky still didn’t clarify just how he got Kevin, not wanting Brock to figure out the boy’s true identity.

Frowning, Brock asked softly, “did you adopt this kid?”

“What’s it matter? He’s my son, Brock,” Bucky said with a slightly sharp tone, not liking Brock so close to Kevin.

Growling, Brock lay a hand over Kevin’s chest and glared at Bucky. “Did you fuckin’ adopt Julian, Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky growled in return, eyes watching Brock.

Shooting to his feet, hands clenched in fists, Brock growled out, “son of a fuckin’ bitch! I’ll kill them! He wasn’t up for adoption! They had no fuckin’ right!” Brock threw Bucky a venomous glare. “Get Julian some water, Bucky bear. Now!” Brock sank down carefully, gently brushing the hair from the boy’s face.

“Don’t touch him!” TJ snapped, moving towards the bed, pale eyes angry.

Brock reached out and easily captured TJ by the back of the neck, forcing him onto his knees with a glare. “SIlence, kid, or I forget you’re sick!”

TJ let out a sound that was a mix of a growl and a whimper, his hands immediately going back to claw at Brock’s hand, his nails digging into the flesh, tearing skin.

With a roar, Brock literally flung TJ onto the bed between Kevin and the wall, just missing smashing TJ’s head into the wall. “Fuckin’ brat! I’ll have him whipped!”

Bucky took a step forward, eyes wide, everything having happened so fast, “Brock. He’s just a kid. He’s scared.”

Leaning very close to TJ, over Kevin, Brock snarled, “you better keep a civil tongue and a gentle touch or I toss you out the nearest window. Lie there and be quiet! Bucky, get Julian water now!”

As Bucky listened, going downstairs to get the water and something for Kevin to eat when he woke up, TJ narrowed his eyes at Brock and spat in the man’s face. Brock backhanded him hard, knocking TJ into the bed, again just missing the wall; TJ’s face felt like it was on fire, bruising starting up instantly. “Stupid fuckin’ brat!”

In the hall the gunman looked up from his place at the table with the other two men. He began to stand up, hand going to his gun hilt. “What the hell?”

“Fucking talk to Brock,” Bucky snapped, eyes narrowed as he went into the kitchen, getting a glass of water and grabbing two bananas and some crackers.

“He letting you feed yourself now?” the man watched Bucky’s every move.

Bucky glared at the man but didn’t say anything as he passed before heading back upstairs and into the room where Kevin, TJ, and Brock were. Bucky eyes immediately caught on the developing bruise on TJ’s cheek. “You hit him?” Bucky rushed over to the bed.

Brock was cooing to Kevin, calling him Julian, softly stroking his hair. He glanced up and nodded. “He’s scared, so you gotta tell him I’d never hurt him. He shouldn’t be scared of me. The other kid spit in my face. I can’t stand a rude brat.”

“Not gonna lie to him,” Bucky growled quietly.

Brock shot to his feet and right up to Bucky, growling, “I’d never harm a damn hair on Julian’s head!”

“You’re a monster, Brock, all you do is hurt people,” Bucky was actually a bit taller than Brock but the stocky man outweighed him in muscle.

Snatching the glass of water, Brock moved back over to Kevin’s side and gently offered him the drink, but Kevin shook his head and looked to Bucky, eyes wide and fearful. “Papa . . .”

Brock glared up at Bucky. “You let him know I won’t hurt him, Bucky,” he ordered.

“You can take a drink, Kevin, I got the water myself,” Bucky said soothingly to his son, purposely finding a way to calm his son without saying that Brock wouldn’t hurt him.

“Why’d you call him Kevin?” Brock glared at Bucky. “You’re just gonna confuse him.” He turned and offered the drink again, tenderly, “c’mon, Julian, you can drink. Your adopted daddy got it for you. See? I wouldn’t hurt you, baby boy.”

Kevin hesitated but _did_ drink, eyes on Bucky, wide and scared. When he drank down about a quarter, Brock pulled the glass away, “not too quickly. You’ll get a tummy ache.”

“Slowly, Tiger, you know how to do it, nice and easy,” Bucky nodded, giving Kevin a gentle smile, stepping closer to the scared boy. His eyes flickered to look at TJ again, eyeing the developing bruise. TJ watched Brock and Kevin intently, pale eyes filled with fury and pain.

Brock seemed reluctant as he got up and handed the glass to Bucky with a glare. “I want him calm and quiet. Don’t you start scaring the boy.” He strode into the hall, shutting the door and locking it.

Releasing a breath, Bucky knelt by the edge of the bed, he set the water on the small table next to him. “Heya, Kevin, you’re okay. I’m gonna get you outta here, okay?” Bucky soothed, running his fingers through Kevin’s hair.

“He called himself Daddy,” Kevin whispered, eyes still wide though glancing to the door and back to Bucky’s face.

“He’s a very confused, bad man, Kevin,” Bucky insisted gently, continuing to run his fingers through the boy’s hair, “he’s just confused.”

Bucky, after making sure Kevin was okay, shifted so he could gently move TJ’s head to get a better look at the hit. Luckily, Brock had missed TJ’s eye, though the bruise would probably cover the boy’s entire cheek.

“Did he hit your face like TJ’s, Papa?” Kevin moved his hand to lay on Bucky’s hip, small and weak. His grey eyes flickered to his adoptive cousin’s then back to his adoptive father’s.

Bucky had honestly forgotten about his throbbing temple, but now, he’d could feel it, feel it swelling. “I’m okay, Tiger. I want you to rest for me, okay? Gotta be strong for when we get outta here, right?”

“Yes, Papa,” the child answered softly. He leaned his head against Bucky's hand and shut his eyes, obediently.

Bucky didn’t know how long he’d have in the room; he kept glancing towards the door and then back to Kevin. He couldn’t explain Brock’s odd behavior, but it scared and confused him . . . unable to get a proper read on the scarred man.

It took two hours before the door unlocked and Fisk stood there, no sign of Brock. “I understand the boy had an episode.”

“Yes, what did you think was going to happen?” Bucky snapped quietly, not wanting to wake his son. TJ sat on the bed, awake, glaring at Fisk in an open expression of hatred.

Settling his walking stick on the floor, gripping the gilded head, Fisk studied Bucky. “There is no link as of yet between stress and seizures, Mr. Rogers. However, I require a list of medications the three of you take.” Fisk looked to TJ but didn’t approach, frowning at the large dark bruising.

“Fuck off,” Bucky growled, “take them to the hospital.” 

“Ah, so you are feeling angry and rebellious. Might I state that Brock Rumlow is convinced that law enforcement took his son when he was incarcerated? He feels they put his son up for adoption and that you now have his boy.”

“Great, he’s crazy,” Bucky snarled, watching Fisk intently, “Kevin isn’t his son.”

“Of course he’s not Mr. Rumlow’s child. He’s Mr. Rogers’ child. But Mr. Rumlow doesn’t know that yet.” Fisk shook his head. “If he did, I feel he wouldn’t care as deeply if the child were cared for.”

“If he cared so much, he’d get _his son_ to a hospital,” Bucky snapped, keeping his tone quiet.

“He asked me to release _his son_ to hospital, but I refused. So, he demanded the medicines for the boy. That, I have agreed to. Thus, a list of medicines for the three of you so that you can continue to care for them.” Fisk sounded calm.

“How will I know they’re the right medications and you aren’t just poisoning us all over again?” Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Very well, Mr. Rogers. If you do not wish to treat your sons because you distrust me so much, I withdraw my offer. I do hope your continuing anxiety and paranoia do not endanger them. Rumlow would love any excuse to take _his son_ back from the prisoner.” Fisk paused, as if waiting for a reply.

Bucky looked at Fisk and then at Kevin, knowing his boys needed their medication as well as the antitoxin treatments, “okay . . . I’ll give you their medication . . .”

“And your’s?” Fisk offered reasonably, “in order to properly be able to care for them, of course.”

Sighing, Bucky listed all their medications, struggling on a few of the names, but after a while was able to name them all.

“Very good. I will arrange for you to begin receiving your doses regularly. Thank you for considering your sons before your own rebellion. Perhaps you are not as _evil_ a father as Mr. Rumlow seems convinced of.” Fisk turned and paused, “I will order Rumlow to let you sleep in here if you continue to be cooperative. He’ll bring up some food and water soon. Milk for the children. All children should drink their milk.” Fisk walked out and nodded; another man shut the door and the lock engaged.

Kevin opened his eyes.

Bucky slumped against the edge of the bed, back to the boys; he had no idea how they were going to get out of this.

Kevin put a hand on the small of Bucky’s back. “Maybe we can find a way to open the window and climb out tonight, Papa?”

“Yeah, we can try, Tiger,” Bucky nodded, turning to give his son a small smile.

Kevin sat up, fully restored to strength from his long nap. He threw his arms around Bucky and hugged hard. “I love you, Papa.” He buried his face in Bucky’s nude chest.

“I love you and TJ so much,” Bucky kissed the top of Kevin’s head. “We’ll get out of this.”

“I know we will.” Kevin hugged him back. “You’re the bravest, smartest man I know, Papa.”

**************

The night ticked by slowly; Kevin sat on the bed, barefoot since Rumlow had taken all his clothes, including his shoes. He’d left Bucky in his pants and boxers, at least, and the loin cloth and t-shirt gown for Kevin, but Rumlow hadn’t returned anything already removed. TJ was the only one to retain his full clothing, including shoes. Kevin hadn’t stepped onto the floor at all; even when he’d had to go bathroom, Rumlow had come and carried him to the other room. Bucky looked around the room for anything they could use to pry open the window.

“It’s a shame they took your arm, Papa,” Kevin said, apparently thinking along similar lines to his father.

Bucky walked over to the window and debated punching it out; sure, he’d mess up his hand but at least he’d get Kevin and TJ out. The brunet lay his palm on the glass, testing the thickness of it. Once he touched it, Bucky realized the glass was coated, and most likely shatterproof or even bullet-proof. For such an old house, it has some surprisingly modern additions. Sighing, Bucky rested his forehead on the glass, hand clenching into a fist and he pounded the window in frustration, not actually attempting to break it.

Kevin sighed, too, and shook his head. “Not going to work, Papa?”

“No, Tiger, ‘fraid not,” Bucky murmured, pulling away from the glass, noting the sun was beginning to rise.

“You didn’t get any sleep, Papa,” Kevin commented. “I can watch while you nap. TJ, too, can nap.”

“I’m okay, Tiger, thank you,” Bucky looked over at his son and gave the boy a soft smile. He was exhausted and his temple, where Brock had hit it, throbbed dully, but Bucky couldn’t let Kevin be up by himself.

The door opened and one of the guards looked in. He glanced from man to kids and grunted. “Awake? Want chow?”

Bucky simply nodded, standing between the man and the boys.

Nodding, the man gestured for Bucky to follow him. “Get the kids and let’s go down to eat.” He watched and waited, the rising sun slowly picking out the features of the man who’d had Avenger and Malakai the day before.

Easing Kevin to his feet, Bucky kept his arm wrapped around Kevin as he guided the boy downstairs for breakfast. TJ followed closely behind. Fortunately, the floors were reasonable clean so Kevin didn’t hurt himself as they went.

Downstairs, the man gestured towards the table. “Have a seat. I’ll get something together for you. And, please don’t try to run away. I’ve got orders to shoot the dogs if you run.”

“Avenger and Malakai’re here?” Kevin perked up.

The man nodded. “I’ve got the dogs here, yes.” He turned to start getting stuff together.

Bucky kept his arm around Kevin, watching the man and the room intently, trying to figure out some way to escape.

Finally, the man turned and put some pancakes on the table on a kind of large, very clean plate. He put down syrup and butter and forks and plates. The man turned to get juice and milk and water for the prisoners.

Bucky grabbed the fork, debating if he could stab the man and run out with Kevin and TJ before anyone else noticed.

Without turning, the man said, “I laid out four.” He continued filling glasses. “So four better be in the wash when we’re done eating, or I’ll search you three.” He turned and put a pair of glasses on the table and turned for another pair.

Bucky sighed and offered the pancakes to Kevin.

“We can split one, Papa,” Kevin said softly, looking up at Bucky. “Or me an’ Dougie can split,” Kevin kept up the fake names.

Bucky nodded, smiling softly at his son, “alright, you guys split one.”

Kevin nodded and waited for his share, foregoing anything on it as he began to eat. Bucky also ate his dry, slowly nibbling at the pancake. He leaned real close so his arm brushed TJ’s as they ate.

“Papa, do you think Jackie’s coming back today?” Kevin sounded worried.

“Probably not, Fisk had Jack running some errands,” Bucky said, trying to sooth his worried son.

Nodding, accepting his father’s words, Kevin looked at the guard, who also ate, though he used butter and syrup liberally. “May I feed Avenger and Malakai?”

“Nope. The dogs are my responsibility,” the man answered.

“But Avenger and Malakai were supposed to be let go, sir. Jackie said so,” Kevin protested.

The man shook his head. “Jack Rollins had no say in whether the dogs get to go free or even get killed. Mr. Fisk wants the dogs cared for until his meeting.”

“When’s this meeting,” Bucky asked.

Looking over at Bucky, the guard said, “I believe it’s at lunchtime. A Business meeting. He’s bringing the dogs with him. A kind of proof of life.”

“Avenger and Malakai don’t prove anything, one way or another,” Bucky pointed out.

“Not my decision. If I was to show proof of life, I’d do something with live video or something with a phone call, but Mr. Fisk says that can be traced. So, he’s going to use the dogs.” The guard shrugged and stood up, taking his plate and fork to the sink. He walked back over and sat down, reaching for his orange juice.

Bucky gripped his fork tightly; it’d be easy to leap across the table and stab the guard.

Without looking up, again as if he could read Bucky’s mind, the man calmly said, “the boy’s feet would rip up on the sharp shells on the walk around the house and down the driveway. The woods in the back have snakes.” He sipped his drink calmly.

Sighing, Bucky let the fork clatter to the table.

Looking at Bucky, the guard shrugged as if he’d been questioned, “I get paid to do a job, and that job is to keep you here and safe. I don’t involve myself in why you are here and what Mr. Fisk thinks he’s going to gain having you here. But, I don’t wanna see the kids hurt in the attempt to escape. Mr. Fisk chose this house for a reason.” He sipped again.

Bucky shook his head, feeling hopeless.

Standing up the man walked over to a pair of paper bags on the counter. He pulled out some pill bottles and checked them. Taking out the appropriate amount of each, he walked back and set them on Bucky’s plate then some on Kevin’s and then on TJ’s. They looked identical to their normal morning doses. “Mr. Fisk wants you to stay reasonably healthy so wants you to take those, please.”

Bucky gave Kevin and TJ a reassuring nod before taking his own medication, hoping Fisk had really gotten their meds.

Kevin took his meds with his milk and nodded. “All gone, Papa.”

“Good job, Tiger,” Bucky said softly.

TJ took his medicine as well, washing them down with a small sip of orange juice. He’d only eaten about half of his small serving of pancakes.

The man nodded. “Done eating?” he asked.

Bucky nodded.

Nodding, he gestured the trio to stand. The guard counted the plates, cups, and forks as he put them in the sink with his own. Turning back to Bucky, the man gestured towards the back door. “You can get some exercise on the back porch if you want.”

“I’m not leaving my boys,” Bucky said firmly.

“I meant the three of you. The porch is treated wood. His feet will be fine,” the man replied.

Bucky nodded, leading Kevin and TJ outside onto the back porch.

Seeing the German Shepherd on a heavy chain, Kevin gasped and ran over, hugging his dog. “Avenger! Papa! They chained him!” He sounded like he wanted to cry while Avenger licked his face and pushed into him, tail wagging.

TJ immediately went to Malakai, burying his face in the dog’s white fur and letting out a shaky breath. His fingers tapped nervously against Malakai. The dog lapped and nuzzled at TJ, appearing to be just as upset as TJ at having been separated.

Nodding, Bucky walked over to his son and the dog, letting Kevin pet the dog. The guard crossed his arms, watching but not interfering.

After a while, they heard the sound of a car pulling up on the crunchy shells of the front driveway. The man looked at the others. “Okay time to go back in. Please, don’t make me hurt the dogs.”

Sighing, Bucky pulled Kevin and then TJ back to his feet and guided them back towards the door.

“Be good, Avenger!” Kevin called to his dog with one last petting. He went with his father.

Nodding, the guard took them inside, sat Kevin down to check his feet in case of splinters or something, then stood the boy up and gestured towards the steps. “Same room you came from, but you can use the bathroom before going in if you need to.”

Bucky lead the boys up the stairs, making sure to stop at the bathroom before going back to the bedroom. He sat Kevin on the bed, TJ sank down on the bed next to the smaller boy.

The guard nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I’ll let Mr. Fisk know you weren’t any problem. Maybe he’ll let the kid have some real clothes or something.” He shut the door and locked it, walking away.

Kevin immediately got up and ran to the window, trying to see out. “I can’t see the porch,” he said with disappointment.

“At least now you know Avenger is okay,” Bucky said.

“What does _proof of life_ mean, Papa?” Kevin asked, climbing back onto the bed.

Sighing, Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, “means, Fisk is going to show Avenger to Dad to prove that we’re still alive.”

“I don’t think Dad’s stupid enough to think they can’t kill us if they leave Avenger alive,” Kevin frowned.

“I agree,” Bucky nodded, “the plan didn’t make sense to me either.”

“I think this guard was the nicest one, even if he kept giving you orders, Papa.” He looked up to Bucky.

“Yeah, he was,” Bucky agreed softly, rubbing his uninjured eye with his hand.

“Why does he work for mean bad guys if he’s so nice, Papa?” Kevin leaned into Bucky’s left side.

“I don’t know, Tiger,” Bucky murmured, exhaustion making his mind fuzzy.

“You should nap, Papa. I can keep watch.” The small blond patted Bucky’s leg.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “you wake me as soon as you hear that door unlock, okay?”

“Yes, Papa, I promise.” Kevin looked up at Bucky.

Bucky laid down, curling up, keeping his hand on Kevin, the brunet fell asleep within a few minutes. TJ seemed to lose his own battle with his exhaustion as he curled up on the bed and his eyes drifted shut.

Repositioning himself so he could stroke Bucky’s hair, Kevin began singing children’s songs for his father and cousin.


	15. Captivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Violence, Kidnapping, Threats, Rape, Abuse**

“Papa!” Kevin shook his father awake at about noon, judging by the sun.

Snapping awake, Bucky sat up and it took several long moments before he remembered everything that had happened, putting him back on edge. TJ woke at Kevin’s call as well, blinking several times to get adjusted to the lighting. The bruise had, like Bucky suspected, grown to cover the entirety of the boy’s cheek, and it looked quite painful.

By then, the door had opened and the man who had the gun the day before stood there, staring warily at Kevin. He tossed a bundle of clothes into the room, the clunk of sneakers sounding, before he slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Dress . . . Kevin,” Bucky murmured, rubbing his good eye again, trying to get the last bit of sleep out of his system.

Nodding, Kevin slid from the bed and lifted the clothes. “They’re mine, Papa, and they’re clean. They smell like the clinic.” He frowned. He looked up. “Not like our soap.” Kevin slid out of the two t-shirts and began dressing.

“They might be from your Dad?” Bucky offered.

Shaking his head, the boy said, “no. I was wearing these yesterday, Papa.”

“Oh,” Bucky nodded.

Once dressed and in his shoes, Kevin climbed back on the bed and hugged his father then hugged TJ, hard. The clothes didn’t precisely smell like the clinic, but they smelled of disinfectant and bleach. “We’ll be okay, TJ,” the boy said.

“Yeah, we will,” TJ agreed, leaning into Kevin’s hug.

The door opened again and this time the guard watching the dogs stood there, with the dogs. Avenger and Malakai, both, looked well fed and brushed, their vests neat and leashes loose. “All of you come. Mr. Fisk wants all of you to come to his meeting.” He left, leading the dogs.

Nodding, seeing a possible time for escape, Bucky helped Kevin to his feet and followed the guard out, holding Kevin’s hand; TJ stayed close to them. When they got downstairs, the man guided them out the front door, where his description of the walkway and driveway matched what they found. At the end of the drive was a large wall, but to get around it would have required crossing into the crushed shells. A grey limousine sat there, door open. The guard turned and said, “please get into the car, sir.”

Bucky ushered Kevin in first then let TJ in before slipping in after his boys.

The guard shut the door and the car started immediately and pulled down the driveway. None of the prisoners were blindfolded, but the windows were tinted so dark they couldn’t see anything and a metal shield was up between them and the driver. As like many limos, there was a mini-bar to one side and all of the seat belts were neatly fastened.

Looking around, Bucky tried to see if he could use anything in the limo. Sliding over to the mini-bar, Bucky began to sift through its contents. The mini-bar was empty not even a glass or travel bottle of aspirin. Bucky sighed and fell back against the seat.

“They didn’t lock the doors, Papa,” Kevin said softly.

Looking over, Bucky frowned and went back to the door, trying to judge how fast the vehicle was moving . . . if they’d be able to jump out and survive or not. With the dark tinting, it was impossible to tell.

“Can we get out, Papa?” Kevin asked.

“I don’t know how fast we’re going, Tiger,” Bucky said with a soft sigh.

“What about when they stop?” he added. The blond boy glanced at the other child, worried. TJ didn’t say anything, though he looked just as worried.

“We can try,” Bucky nodded, keeping his fingers wrapped around the door handle, ready to open it at a second’s notice.

Kevin looked around. “Will we see Avenger and Malakai again, Papa?”

“Yeah, they just wanna make sure your Dad does what they want,” Bucky said.

“Will they know to escape when we do?” Kevin looked at his father. “Because if we escape, I think the bad men are gonna hurt them.” He sighed.

Sighing, Bucky nodded, “we can hold off, Tiger? Wait until we can get Avenger and Malakai, too?”

“No, Papa, we should escape when we can. Avenger and Malakai wouldn’t want us to get hurt for them. Dog’s aren’t like that.” Kevin leaned against Bucky. “But I’ll miss both of them a whole lot.”

TJ chewed his bottom lip and nodded, silently agreeing with Kevin’s words.

“I know,” Bucky leaned down and kissed the top of Kevin’s head then did the same for TJ, fingers still poised to pull the handle and open the door.

The car slowed to a stop, the sound of traffic surrounding them. Immediately, feeling the slowing down, Bucky opened the door, pulling Kevin and TJ with him.

A pair of feet appeared directly in front of him, and a walking stick touched the ground softly. “You could have exited calmly, Mr. Rogers. We would have waited,” Senator Fisk said. He stood in front of a different building, on the sidewalk, and must have been waiting for the limo.

Frowning, Bucky looked up at Fisk; he looked around trying to see if they could run. The man nodded and the guard with the dogs stepped forward. He reached down and offered Bucky a hand up. They were surrounded by about seven men this time. Sighing, Bucky took the man’s hand and let him help him to stand. The brunet kept Kevin close to his right side; TJ stayed closed to Bucky’s left side.

Wilson Fisk nodded. “Please, we have a meeting to go to, Mr. Rogers. At the conclusion, it will be determined if you will need your prosthetic arm.” He gestured with the walking stick towards the door.

Guiding his boys, Bucky walked into the building, looking around. He tried not to dwell on the words Fisk said, feeling as if this meeting determined if he lived or not. The group of men accompanied them in, followed by Fisk in the rear. There was no sign of Rollins or Rumlow. They all gathered in a large, almost empty room, three chairs sitting side by side in the light of a partially uncovered window high up. Fisk looked at them. “Please, Mr. Rogers. Have a seat. Your boys may sit, as well.”

Swallowing, Bucky sat Kevin and TJ down first and then sat on the middle chair. Kevin kept his hand in his father’s. He looked around with wide, grey eyes and blinked as the guard brought the dogs over and handed Kevin and TJ the leashes. The guard backed up into the shadows, his hand going to his weapon as he did so. All of Fisk’s guards blended into the shadows.

Finally, the door opened and Steve walked in but went no further than the entrance, looking around in the dim light. He saw his husband and the kids and gasped, a single sheet of paper crumpling in his hand. “Bucky!”

Bucky, hearing and seeing his husband, started to stand back up.

“No, sit, Mr. Rogers,” Fisk ordered calmly. “The negotiation now begins.”

Swallowing, Bucky sat back down, squeezing Kevin’s hand.

“Now, Steve, you have been given a list of my requests and my offers. You have been permitted to consider them for twenty-four hours. What is your answer?” Fisk asked calmly.

Steve’s eyes locked on Bucky, not even looking at Kevin or TJ once. He said, “and you agree that if I answer, you will do as you’ve said, sir? If I agree to run your art gallery and paint for you, you’ll carry through _your_ end of the deal?”

“Naturally,” the man replied, bowing slightly at the neck.

Bucky didn’t tear his eyes from Steve, somehow feeling like this was a _goodbye_ instead of a negotiation for his and the boys’ release.

Steve mouthed, _‘I love you so much, Bucky.’_ Out loud he said, “then give me my sons. Keep Bucky.”

Fisk nodded and snapped his fingers, and several armed men stepped forward. “Kevin, TJ, take your dogs and go to your Dad.”

“But . . . what about Papa?” Kevin looked at Bucky.

“It’s alright, Tiger,” Bucky nodded, forcing a small smile, “you go with Dad . . . I’ll be okay.”

TJ’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “no! We can’t go without you!” The boy looked on the verge of a panic attack, fear and pain clouding his pale eyes.

Bucky gave TJ a small, reassuring smile, “go with Kevin, Teej. It’s going to be okay.”

Kevin hugged his father and whispered, “I’ll save you, Papa. I promise!” He stood and gathered Avenger’s leash then took TJ’s hand. He walked bravely to Steve and hugged him, Steve picking him up in his strong arms. Steve wrapped a strong arm around TJ and pulled the boy tight to his side.

Bucky’s eyes welled with tears though they didn’t spill over.

Steve nodded once and turned around to leave, the dogs following obediently. The door shut with a resounding, final clang.

>center> **************

“Well, the choice is made, Mr. Rogers. Thank you for your cooperation. You will remain our guest for awhile longer.” He nodded and the dogs’ guard stepped over to Bucky and helped him up. “Ah,” Fisk added, “and you will not need your false arm while you are a guest, so I will have it delivered to your husband.”

Bucky’s lip curled into a snarl and he spat at the large man; now that Kevin and TJ were gone, there was nothing to keep him from fighting. 

Fisk frowned and pulled out a fold of cloth, wiping off the spit. “Mr. Rogers, do not let my generosity in allowing you to live fool you. You have insulted and threatened me. I am being investigated. This is not acceptable. If you push me, I will have you killed and send your parts, little by little, to your family, marked in care of your pregnant niece. Steve will, I dare say, continue to abide by the agreement in the hopes of retaining all of you for burial, but I will withhold your head until last. Now, please go back to the car and allow them to bring you back to the house.”

Not saying a word, Bucky let the guard take him back to the car, a sick feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was not angry at Steve; he could never be upset that his husband chose their children’s safety over Bucky’s, but that didn’t stop him from being terrified. He knew what awaited him once they got back to the house.

He didn’t remember much of the drive, too lost in his own thoughts, and soon the limo pulled to a stop. The door opened. Bucky looked out, not making a move to leave the vehicle.

It was the same old house, the same contingent of guards, and Brock, standing there, waiting. The dogs’ guard handed Bucky from the limo and guided him down the path, crunching the entire way, until they got to the porch. There, he let go and backed up. Brock stared for a long moment at the limo’s open door, behind Bucky, until finally he dropped his eyes to Bucky standing on the ground below him.

“Where’s Julian?” he growled.

“Home. Safe. Away from you,” Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile, taunting the scarred man, “so, you can’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt my son, you ass.” Brock fisted his hands, glaring at Bucky.

“He’s not your son!” Bucky shot back, “he will never be _your son_!”

“You fucker!” Brock launched himself off the porch, knocking Bucky backwards onto the sharp stones.

The guard pulled Brock off Bucky and yanked Bucky to his feet, pushing the prisoner into the house. Bucky could feel small cuts stinging his back, where the sharp stones had cut his skin, as he stumbled into the home, his prison.

Brock followed, barking out an order, “lock him up in the back room . . . where he was with my kid. He can look out but won’t get out.” The man strode angrily towards the kitchen.

Bucky was hauled into the bedroom, kicking and fighting the whole way; he’d even managed to bite at one of the guards. He wasn’t about to let this happen without a fight. He kicked at one of the guards’ shins, trying to elbow another one.

Brock followed the group dragging Bucky, fighting and not too carefully because of it, up to the room. He watched as the man who feared Kevin finished hooking up the thick dog chain into a solid hook in the ceiling. As they got Bucky through the door, the man with the chain slammed an elbow into Bucky’s face and clamped a metal collar around his neck, hooking the chain to it. The group left the room, grumbling and tossing angry threats at the man. The only one not participating was the man that had formerly guarded Avenger and Malakai. He merely stood there, arms crossed and watching silently.

Bucky spat out a mouthful of blood from where the man had split his lip with his elbow. The brunet pulled and tugged at the collar, the chain, willing it to break . . . though he knew how unlikely that was.

Brock sneered. “You like your new jewelry, Bucky bear? Get used to it. I’m allowed to do whatever I want short of killing you. Fisk said so.” Brock looked at the quietly watching guard and pointed, “go, get outta here. I don’t need a fuckin’ show, and I ain’t sharing him!” As the man left, Brock turned around and grinned widely, unfastening his belt.

Fighting the restraint with more vigor, Bucky’s chest began to heave. This time Steve would not be running through the door . . . there was no one going to save him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!” Bucky screamed.

“How you gonna stop me, slut?” Brock growled, unfastening his pants, keeping the belt handy.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the man, his chest heaving with each breath he took. He spat at Brock again, hitting the other man in the face. “Fuck you,” Bucky growled, though he knew there wasn’t anything he could do to stop this, but that didn’t mean he’d just _let_ it happen either.

Brock grinned widely and lashed out with the belt, holding the buckle at least, and got Bucky across his clothed chest. “Gonna teach you manners, Bucky Bear.”

Grinding his teeth against the pained noise he wanted to let out, Bucky attempted to block the belt with his only arm, though it didn’t do much.

Brock walked over to Bucky, but still stood just out of arm’s reach. He grinned. “Frisky . . . I can fix that.” He pulled out a knife and sliced Bucky’s shirt from him, lightly nicking the skin but not seriously.

With the thick collar and chain, moving was harder, but Bucky still attempted to grab at Brock’s wrist to stop the man from cutting away anymore of his clothing. He held Brock’s wrist slightly away from him, his arm shaking with the effort to battle Brock’s strength. He really wished he had his prosthetic.

Brock grinned wider. “Aw, he’s tryin’ to hold my hand, how cute.” Brock yanked his wrist out of Bucky’s grip and flicked it down towards the prisoner’s crotch. “Remove those or I will.”

Swallowing, taking a moment to judge his options, Bucky released a shaky breath and began to unfasten and then pull down his jeans and boxer-briefs. He knew that Brock wouldn’t hesitate to cut at his sensitive area if he refused to remove the trousers himself. “You’re a monster, Brock,” Bucky stated, stepping out of his shoes so he could finish pulling off his pants and socks.

Laughing, Brock shrugged. “Don’t care what you think, Bucky Bear. You took my guy, you took my fortune, and now you took my kid. So, I’m gonna get something outta you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to do it over and over. You’re gonna miss me when you can’t have me any more.”

Bucky tried to take a step back away from Brock, but the chain pulled tightly, hardly allowing any retreat whatsoever. “I’ll _never_ beg for you,” Bucky snarled.

The scarred man just snorted, chuckling to himself. “I can use lube or do you dry. I’ll be nice and let you pick. You be nice to me and I’ll use lube.”

Swallowing thickly, Bucky just stared at Brock for a few moments; he couldn’t imagine taking someone dry . . . how much that’d hurt. After several seconds passed, Bucky murmured softly, “I’m . . . sorry? I - - I’ll be better?” He hated the thought that Brock had, in all probability, taken Steve dry many times while Steve had been his boyfriend.

“There, Bucky, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Brock purred his pleasure. He walked out of the room, leaving the door open and Bucky exposed. After a few minutes, Brock came back with a tube of lube in one hand. He finished undressing, not bothering to close the door. “If you keep being nice, I won’t have to have the guards come in and show you how to take a group. We can keep this private.”

Closing his eyes and taking another deep breath and letting it out, Bucky nodded, “yes . . . sir,” he hated the word as it left his mouth, but Bucky didn’t want to be forced to take an entire group of men . . . one was bad enough.

“Good boy. I knew you were quicker to learn than Steve. He was such an idiot and so damn needy. But you’re full of sass. I like that. Not too much, though. So, you keep it toned down and we’ll get along great while we wait to see if Steve can do what he promised the Senator he would.” Brock stepped over and held up the lube, uncapping it. “Ready, baby?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied shakily, his hand trembling at his side though he didn’t move to try and push Brock away. He was truly a prisoner and Bucky could only hope to make it easier on himself.

Brock poured an actual generous amount of lube on his fingers and stepped behind the other man. He began feeling Bucky’s hole.

**************

A guard showing up in the doorway to Bucky’s prison room stopped Brock from a third bout. He said, “Brock, gotta report in.”

Grumbling, by now on the small bed with the prisoner, Bucky no longer chained to the ring, Brock got up and tugged on his pants, grabbing his shirt and slamming his feet into his shoes. “Fuck!” He kicked the door shut on the way out and the sound of the lock engaging came to Bucky.

Bucky simply lay on the bed, not attempting to get off even though he only wore the thick collar at the moment. His body quivered slightly, feeling dirty and used, though Bucky knew that Brock could’ve done a hell of a lot worse. Brock had actually made it pleasurable for the prisoner, which only fueled Bucky’s disgust with himself. Bucky watched the guard in the room, wondering if this new man would have his turn now that Brock had left, despite the brunet’s promise of keeping this _private_.

The guard gave Bucky a disgusted look. “Stop staring at me. I refuse to touch you, you freak. I’m into women, like a real man!” He crossed his arms.

Snorting softly, Bucky did turn his head away, his eyes turning to look out the window. He wondered how long it’d take Brock to report, how much of a break he’d be permitted. Bucky tried to blink back the tears in his eyes, wiping furiously at his cheeks when a few managed to spill over. How would he be able to look at Steve again?

A few more minutes passed before a knock came on the door and the guard turned his back on Bucky. Someone outside of the room unlocked and opened the door, letting the guard out and walking in. It was the dogs’ guard.

Bucky turned his head to look back at the door. Again, Bucky didn’t say or do anything, not even attempting to cover his ass from the new man. He just watched the newcomer.

Striding over to Bucky, carrying a tray of food and drink, the guard put the tray down and sank onto the bed, uncovering a bowl on the tray. That one proved to be some kind of ointment which the man began to work into any bruises and scratches Bucky had, working his way towards Bucky’s ass. “Need the bathroom,” he stated, not questioning.

Nodding, Bucky slowly began to sit up, wincing as his ass ached as he moved. He carefully began to stand up on shaky legs, glancing down at the dogs’ guard.

Nodding, the guard stood and led Bucky, nude, to the bathroom across the hall. He actually held Bucky up as he let Bucky relieve himself, aiding him to sit to defecate if he wished.

Flushing bright red, Bucky didn’t argue, not knowing the next time he’d be able to use the restroom. He relieved himself, wiped and then carefully stood up, turning to flush before moving to the sink to wash his hand. “Can I ask your name?” Bucky asked softly, looking at the guard in the mirror.

“Joe,” he said, crossing his arms. He didn’t rush the prisoner at all, merely waiting at the doorway of the open bathroom. No other guards seemed to be on that floor of the house.

“Joe,” Bucky nodded once and then turned back to the guard to be led back to the bedroom. “Don’t seem to fit in here, Joe,” Bucky murmured.

“It’s a job,” the man said, walking behind Bucky. Once in the bedroom prison, Joe shut them both in and walked over to the bed. He gestured. “Gonna treat you, lay down.”

Once again, Bucky didn’t argue; he lay down on his front, giving Joe access to his injuries. Brock hadn’t been overly rough; he’d gripped Bucky’s hips and bit hard and left a few scratches but overall the prisoner was relatively unharmed.

Nodding, Joe began to once more check over Bucky’s injuries. He then carefully separated Bucky’s buttcheeks and began examining his passage for injuries. “Torn?” he asked.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Bucky murmured, cheeks red, not used to being examined like this. “How . . . how long does it take Brock to report in?”

“He’ll be back in the morning,” Joe said. “I’m taking care of you for the afternoon and night.” He backed off from Bucky’’s ass and nodded towards the food tray. “Lunch. I’ll be counting the silver when you’re done.” The guard stood and walked over to the door, giving Bucky some space but not turning his back like the other guard.

Bucky nibbled at his meal, knowing he needed to at least eat something. His eyes kept flickering nervously to the guard and then away and then back to Joe. “Any . . . any word on my family? They’re okay, right?”

“Haven’t heard one way or the other,” Joe answered, sounding honest at least. He looked at Bucky, disinterested in the man. “You’re not used to being a prisoner, are you?”

Snorting softly, Bucky looked at Joe and then shook his head, “no, can’t say I have a lot of experience in that field.”

Nodding, Joe lowered his voice. “If you need medicine, you gotta let me know. I can make sure it comes with your meals. If you wanna avoid certain . . . events with a specific . . . guard, let me know. I can make it so he doesn’t . . . do that.”

“Fisk was supposed to have my medicine,” Bucky commented with a sigh and then took a sip of his water, “and how will you do that? Why do you even care what they do to me? You’re just doing your _job_ , right?”

“Right, doing my job. And my job is to take care of the prisoner. So, I can do that. It will hurt a bit, but it will keep the others from you, since they’d get in trouble for causing you major hurt. That's being reserved if someone doesn’t cooperate on the outside.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion, “and you can keep Brock away? Isn’t he your superior or whatever?”

“Nope, I was hired by someone else. He’s just an equal.” Joe looked over Bucky. “And what do you need your meds for? Right now no one thinks you’re sick enough for them.”

“The antidote for the poison Fisk gave my family, anxiety medication and something for my PTSD,” Bucky answered honestly, “how do you plan on keeping Brock away? He’ll kill you for even trying.”

“I can hurt you so he will back off. He won’t want to hurt you worse and risk getting in trouble with the man who hired us.” Joe stood and walked towards Bucky.

Bucky instinctively pushed back until his back hit the wall, away from the approaching man, “hurt me worse? Like how?” The brunet watched the guard warily.

The guard produced a tube of gel. “This is a medicine that’s isn't supposed to be used internally. It can cause swelling and rash. If you apply a small amount to your rectum, you’ll swell and go red and itch. He won’t risk hurting you by . . . doing anything.”

“That honestly sounds worse,” Bucky’s eyes flickered between the man and the tube he held. “I mean . . . isn’t that really dangerous?”

“Yeah, especially if you’re allergic.” Joe nodded and tossed the tube at Bucky. “Or you could go for a different injury of your own devising, or just play nice with him until the higher ups decide to release you.”

Bucky couldn’t believe these were his only options; purposely give himself a rash, with swelling, down in one of his most vulnerable areas, give himself a severe enough injury that Brock was forced to leave him alone, or continue to let Brock rape him. After close to a minute of silence, Bucky slowly said, “I . . . I don’t want to hurt myself or risk killing myself if I’m allergic to that shit . . .”

Nodding, Joe said, “reasonable, actually. Look, some advice? He likes his men very clean and very tame. You don’t need to smile and suck up, but keep a clean mouth and a clean . . . body, and he’ll treat you nice.” It certainly sounded like he knew Brock well.

“I can only keep as clean as I’m allowed,” Bucky frowned softly.

“Mention you wanna be clean for him and he’ll make sure you get time for that. He’s been known to let his men use long baths or showers just to please him. However, if there’s something he hates is being challenged or defied. If he thinks you don’t respect him, you’ll suffer. If he thinks you’re making nice to another guard without his permission, you’ll suffer. The man is a very possessive, abusive . . . let’s say he got out of prison on a technicality after seriously harming and endangering people.”

“Yeah, I _know_. I’m . . . married to one of his ex-boyfriends. I know exactly how much damage Brock Rumlow can do,” Bucky sighed softly and shook his head, putting his empty glass back on the tray.

Sighing, Joe said, “you sure you don’t want to hurt yourself so he leaves you alone?”

“Ask me tomorrow?” Bucky shook his head, “I’m guessing you’ll be my afternoon and night guard . . . so, I’ll let you know if I can’t handle it anymore. I have a family to get back to, Joe.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joe sighed. He didn’t take the tube of meds back, instead collecting Bucky’s cup and heading across the hall, leaving the doors open and the silverware with the prisoner, like he had when they’d all had breakfast with the boys. Joe came back and set the glass down again, this time producing Bucky’s meds and handing the entire bottles to him. “Hide those.”

Bucky took his needed dose and then looked around the room for a hiding spot. He settled for under the mattress; he also put the tube of medicine there as well, knowing it’d be hard for Brock to see. “Why are you doing all this, Joe?” Bucky asked, sitting back down on the bed.

Joe answered, “eat.” He frowned and crossed his arms.

**************

The next morning, Bucky heard the door unlocking and then opening, only having been in a light doze. He watched as Brock entered the room and Bucky managed a, “morning . . . sir.” He’d taken Joe’s warnings to heartl if he wanted to get out of this with the least injuries, he’d need to play nice.

Brock smiled, obviously pleased. “Good morning, Bucky Bear. Much prettier sight than Steve.” He walked over and sat on the bed next to Bucky, reaching over to stroke a hand over the globes of Bucky’s ass.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine, the reaction could be taken for one of pleasure but Bucky knew it was anything but. Looking over his shoulder at Brock, he asked, “you . . . sleep okay, sir?”

“Kinda. You wore me out, but I want my boy. Been thinking. Once Fisk is done with you, I can get him to give you to me. Then we can get my boy and be a happy family. Your girl can even come over, sometimes.” Brock grinned.

Bucky had to swallow down the snappy remark that wanted to burst from his lips; he managed it and gave Brock a small smile. “Yeah? You’d like that, sir?”

“Yeah, I don’t much like other people’s kids cause they’re brats, but we’d make a great home for my Julian.” Brock stroked Bucky’s ass again. “You have breakfast yet?”

“No, sir,” Bucky answered, “I’m . . . I’m never that hungry in the mornings . . .” he hoped that wasn’t pushing any boundaries, that Brock wouldn’t read that as a challenge to his authority.

“Huh,” Brock frowned fiercely. “Steve didn’t take care of you very well if he didn’t get you healthy enough to eat good food during the day. I always knew without discipline he’d slip back into those lazy school habits. Gonna get you fit so you don’t need those drugs the doctors tried to pawn off on us. Anxiety? What the hell shit does he think he’s pulling?” Brock slapped Bucky’s ass lightly then stood. “Gonna go get you breakfast.” He headed to the door.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky called after him, a sick feeling in his gut. He prayed that once he got out of this Steve would understand his decision, that Steve wouldn’t hate him for not doing Joe’s other suggestions.

Brock walked out, locking Bucky in, and his footfalls disappeared down the hall.

Quickly, Bucky slid off the bed and lifted the mattress, using his shoulder to prop it up so he could grab his medicine. He took his morning dose, swallowing the pills dry, before putting the bottles back in place. Just as he settled back on the bed, Bucky could hear footsteps approaching the room again. He gave Brock a small, shaky smile as the man entered with a tray of food.

Brock nodded. He put the tray on the table by the bed. “Come here, Bucky Bear, let me see that lovely ass.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky slipped off the bed and walked over to the small nightstand, his ass towards the other man. He hated how much power he was giving Brock over him, but he kept telling himself that this was the best way not to get hurt . . . the most likely way that he’d make it back to his family in one piece.

Seeming quite pleased, the man nodded. “You are learning real quick. I like that. Such a pretty ass.” Brock turned and left, locking the door, leaving the tray with the bowl and cup there. He left no silverware to eat the oatmeal with.

Bucky stood still for a moment, confused as to why Brock had left. He didn’t know if he should try to eat or not . . . Brock had given him the food but never gave him permission. The lack of silverware would make eating the oatmeal difficult. Glancing back at the door, Bucky frowned softly and then turned back to the food. He waited for a few more moments.

The door opened again and Brock carried in a spoon, beaming in delight. “What a good boy, not getting dirty. Trusting me to take care o’ ya.” He walked over and brandished the spoon, grinning. He seemed so fair minded and caring it must have been times like this which had helped convince Steve to try to stay in the relationship and work on it.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said, carefully reaching for the spoon, watching Brock closely for any signs this wasn’t what Brock expected.

“I get a kiss, right?” Brock said in a tone of reminder.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky gave Brock another small smile and nodded, “of course,” he answered before leaning in closer and kissing Brock lightly, trying for as little contact as possible.

Brock seemed momentarily satisfied anyway. He nodded, “go ahead and eat, Bucky Bear. And . . .” he stepped over to the bed to straighten it a bit, “aren’t you now seeing how much nicer things woulda been all these years if you’d stayed with me and let me show you how to go on instead of freakin’ out and runnin’ away?”

Taking the spoon, Bucky nodded, having to bite back any negative comments, “yes, sir. I was . . . silly?” He looked at Brock making the bed and then at the tray; he knelt on the ground so he’d be able to eat from the bowl one handed.

“Musta thought Steve would be able to take care of you right just ‘cause he had muscles and a pretty face. But I already found out the guy was totally dumb. He couldn’t do anything right.” Brock snorted as if at a joke, close to discovering Bucky’s hidden meds if he continued what he was doing.

Bucky watched Brock and after taking a few bites of the oatmeal, he put the spoon back in the bowl and offered, “sir, want me to finish tidying up the bed? You . . . work too hard for me.”

As if Bucky said something magical, Brock backed off. “You really are learning your place! Yeah, you finish eating, Bear, then make your bed and tidy the room and stuff. I’ll see about some fresh clothes so you don’t start smelling like a pig. Maybe even a shower later.” Brock seemed quite happily deluded that he and Bucky really were becoming a couple.

“I can . . . earn a shower, sir,” Bucky swallowed, another twinge of self-disgust tightening his gut. “You . . . you’re too good to me, sir. I can earn what you give me.” He hoped if he kept up the charade that Brock might get sloppy . . . make a mistake that Bucky could benefit from.

Looking proud of the reaction, as if Brock had produced Bucky’s actions and words, Brock nodded. “Well, you been such a good boy right now, I’m gonna let you get a shower and stuff before I have to report. But only if you continue to be good. So, finish eating and tidy the room. I’m gonna go check the perimeter real quick and check with the boys.” Brock turned and let himself from the room, locking the door securely.

Bucky let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his hand had begun to shake without him even realizing it. After several moments, Bucky slowly began to eat the oatmeal, luckily it was bland enough that it didn’t upset his stomach and he was actually able to finish the entire bowl. He drank the small glass of orange juice as well, knowing Brock expected the entire meal to be finished. After he ate, Bucky moved around the room, tidying up what he could, making sure the bed was neatly made, trying to remember how Steve always insisted it be made. After close to a half hour, he’d finished and all he could do was wait.

Bucky’s timing was spot on as the door opened just as the prisoner finished his tasks. Brock walked in and nodded upon seeing the finished meal and straightened bed. He carried fresh underwear and a pair of sweatpants. Holding out the clothes to Bucky, Brock said, “Senator wants you to know he hasn’t forgotten you’re here. Wants you to remember I’m in charge for him.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky nodded, “thank you for the clothes.” He took them from Brock but didn’t put them on yet, suspecting Brock liked to give permission for everything.

“You wanna clean up, Bear?” Brock asked, rocking on his feet and looking quite pleased. “We can get a shower.”

“Yes, sir. I wanna be clean for you,” Bucky said. Honestly, he really did want a shower; it had been over a day since his last one and he felt disgusting.

“Great, come on,” Brock unlocked the door and opened it. He pointed to the bathroom across the hall. “We’ll get you all cleaned up, Bear. I take care of good boys right. You’ll see. I can show you that I’ll do good for you and you can trust me near my boy.” Brock seemed to be getting things mixed up and blended in his mind, almost as if he might be somewhat delusional.

“Yes, sir, I believe you,” Bucky nodded, holding the clothes to his nude chest as he stepped out of the room and into the bathroom. “Are . . . are you gonna join me, sir?” Bucky looked over his shoulder; he liked knowing what was going to happen . . . helped him keep his anxiety under control. Not knowing, being constantly on edge, would only make it so much worse.

“Not enough room for us to fuck in there without a big mess. But I can wash you up real good, Bear,” Brock determined. He stripped off his shirt and jeans, folding them and putting them on the sink counter. “Come on.”

Bucky stepped into the bathtub and waited for Brock’s next orders.

Nodding, Brock wet his hands as he started the water, making sure to quickly adjust it from cold to warm. He didn't burn Bucky, at least. Soaping up a cloth, Brock leaned in and began washing Bucky's body, caressing gently on his privates and giving his butt a squeeze or two, but other than that, pretty impersonal though caring seeming. It didn't take long before he had Bucky rinse then said, "okay, gotta wash that hair of yours. Kinda long, ain't it?"

“Yes, sir,” Bucky nodded, “I . . . I usually let it grow out?” He met Brock’s eyes, his damp hair falling nearly to his shoulders though it had begun to curl ever so slightly as it started to dry. He didn’t know how long this gentleness was going to last, but Bucky hoped to keep it going for as long as possible.

Brock tangled his hand into Bucky’s curls and tugged the other man to him, kissing with a grin. “I like it. Makes ya look all soft and vulnerable and roguish and sexy kitten.” He let go. “Now stop trying to seduce me with those bedroom eyes and get dried and dressed. I got work ta do, Bear.” Brock turned abruptly and strode to his clothes, grabbing one of the towels to roughly dry himself off.

Bucky did as he was told, stepping out of the bath and grabbing a towel to dry himself off before getting dressed in the clothes provided for him. He turned to drain the tub, asking as he did so, “will . . . will you be back to visit me, sir? Later today?” Bucky tried to keep his tone sounding curious, forcing a longing tone into it. Once again, he had to swallow down the disgust in himself he felt. He was doing this for survival, so he could see his family again.

“Yeah, not today, Bear. I got lots of work to do. But I’ll let the other guys know not to touch you. You relax and do whatever you want in your room today. Need a book or something?” Brock led the way back to the room and grabbed the tray of dirty dishes.

“Yes, sir, I’d like that,” Bucky nodded, giving Brock a small smile.

With a last kiss, gentle and almost caring, Brock left Bucky in the room and locked him in, his footsteps disappearing down the hall. Within ten minutes he was back with two books, both classical literature: The Great Gatsby and Huckleberry Finn. “There ya go, Bear. Enjoy.” He left the books on the night table and left the room, locking the door.

Sighing softly, Bucky made his way back to the bed and settled down, grabbing one of the books without even looking at it. He wanted to go home, be with his family.

It took several hours before someone came to check on the prisoner. Brock opened the door and grinned widely when he saw Bucky was really reading like he said he would. “Damn, once you’re taught, you behave!” He walked in, locking the door, and started unfastening his pants. “A quicky before lunch, Bear,” he said, no question.

Letting out a breath, Bucky nodded and carefully marked his page and put the book on the nightstand. He looked at Brock for a few moments before asking, “how do you want me, sir?”

“On your front, Bear. But this time you open yourself. Cause I’m taking you however you are in five minutes.” Brock began stroking himself, watching Bucky intently.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grabbed the lube Brock had left behind from the previous day and quickly positioned himself. He had to lean heavily on his front, giving Brock full sight of his passage, so he could reach around with his hand, thoroughly coated in lube. He knew he wouldn’t be able to completely stretch himself in five minutes, but he planned on getting as open as he could. From years of loving Steve, Bucky knew how to open himself up quickly, managing to get three fingers in before the five minutes was up. His skin was flushed and he pressed his forehead to the mattress, his mouth hung open slightly in a silent moan.

“Time’s up, Bear,” Brock moaned in definite lust. He walked over, pulled Bucky’s hand from his ass, and lined up.

**************

After lunch, which Brock had left Bucky alone to eat his sandwich, apple, and juice, Joe came to retrieve the tray instead. He looked at the brunet in passing and picked up the tray. “Torn?” he asked like he had the day before.

“Don’t think so,” Bucky murmured, taking small bites of his sandwich. He gotten dressed as soon as Brock had left, thankful for that small luxury.

Nodding, Joe looked over Bucky again. “Pain?”

“A little sore, I guess,” Bucky answered softly, setting his sandwich down to sip at his juice. “Nothin’ too bad . . .”

“Need more books?” Joe asked. It seemed the man was trying to find reasons to stay or talk.

Looking over at the two books on the nightstand, Bucky shook his head, “haven’t finished these ones. Have . . .” Bucky looked at Joe, his eyes guilty and worried, “have you heard anything on my family? They okay?”

As if that was the exact thing he waited for, Joe snorted and turned for the door. “The dogs are in Manhattan.” He walked out and locked the door behind him.

Sighing again, Bucky began picking at his food again, slowly finishing the meal.

**************

Days seemed to blur together; they seemed to follow the exact same pattern. Bucky would be woken by his visit with Brock, who’d make sure to clean him and feed him breakfast before _using_ him, sometimes the _visits_ would be short, other times they’d bleed into late afternoon. The one day Bucky had gotten too relaxed and did something Brock hadn’t liked, Brock slammed him in the side of the head, hard, blackening his eye and making him sick and dizzy for several hours. Brock had blamed Bucky for _‘making him do it.’_ After Brock was satisfied for the day, Bucky would be given lunch and be left alone for a few hours until Joe came into the room. The guard would ask the same questions, checking any injuries the prisoner had sustained.

When Bucky asked Joe about his family, the guard would simply answer that the dogs were in either _Brooklyn_ or _Manhattan_. Bucky didn’t argue the man’s odd answers, hoping Joe would tell him if something bad had happened to them.

Bucky suspected he’d been in the house for about four, maybe five days and he didn’t think he could miss his family more than he did that day. He’d just finished with his daily visit from Brock, this one being longer than the others. He pulled back on his clothes and settled on the bed, waiting for Joe to show up.

When the door opened and Joe stepped inside, Bucky looked at the other man. “Wanna . . . go home . . .” Bucky murmured mainly to himself, his tone pleading. He wanted Steve, wanted his husband’s arms around him and to hear Kevin’s laugh and sweet voice, hear TJ playing the piano and see his crooked grin and Ava’s joking and teasing.

Nodding, Joe didn’t answer that claim nor ask his standard questions. Instead, he carried a laptop into the room and shut the door behind him. He set the laptop down. “I was told to show you this.” Joe frowned severely and flicked on an icon. A grainy image showed a darkened box, only lit by a few small holes punched around, as if for a small animal to breathe. There was no sound. The box rocked and then set down and opened. Ava’s face was looking down in the box, stunned and horrified. Tears welled in her eyes and Steve’s face appeared. He turned her head to his shoulder. The feed cut off.

“Wh - - what was th - - that?” Bucky asked, eyes wide.

“That was your prosthetic being returned like he said he would.” Joe shut the laptop and picked it up. “He told me to remind you that if you don’t cooperate you’ll be returned piece by piece to her.” Joe sounded very angry. “So you better obey me!”

“I have been,” Bucky said softly, Ava’s horrified face on repeat in his mind. “I’ve been doing everything I’ve been told!”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded, seeming to calm a bit. “You’ve been a good guy this whole time. I’ll let him know.” Joe left the room, locking it.

Bucky turned back to the window, curling up and staring out of it. He wanted to go home.

**************

A knock came on the door, unusual since at every other time people just opened the door, including Fisk. The lock disengaged and the door opened, allowing Fisk and Joe to come in, but no one else. The knock must have been some kind of message from Joe, if Bucky could figure it out.

Bucky sat up, putting his book down; he looked up at the large man, “Mr. Fisk . . .” Bucky said softly.

“Mr. Rogers,’ Fisk said, sounding cool and calm but not upset. “How are the accommodations?”

“They’re fine . . . thank you,” Bucky answered, eyes meeting the large man’s.

“And are you being cared for?” Fisk asked, Joe slightly behind him and frowning severely.

Looking up, Bucky nodded, his eyes nervously darting from one man to the other, “yes . . . they are . . . taking good care of me.”

Nodding, Fisk looked at the guard and ordered, “change his bedding and make certain he is as comfortable as possible. I will assign Mr. Rumlow two days of duties, after which he will return to resume control of his charge.” Wilson Fisk turned to Bucky. “Did you see verification that your arm was returned to your family?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky nodded, knowing he sounded like a whipped dog right then but couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore after the last several days with Rumlow.

Fisk added, “you see, I am a man of my word. Keep that in mind, Mr. Rogers. The entire house contains bullet proof windows and all the doors are locked. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky nodded; he was lucky that it seemed like Fisk had indeed gotten his right medication, including the antitoxin. He still forgot things, but, so far, hadn’t suffered a major anxiety attack.

“Oh, if you behave, I will make sure you get a chance to video chat with your family, Mr. Rogers. So, be a good boy.” Fisk left, calling calmly for his guards.


	16. In a Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Violence, Abuse, Kidnapping, Threats, Death, Post Traumatic, Anxiety**

Joe turned and locked the door then turned back to Bucky, crossing his arms and merely standing there silently. It was suddenly unclear if Joe would prove to be far worse than Brock.

Bucky met the guard’s stare; he didn’t move or say anything.

After the last door closed and the sound of two cars faded down the drive, Joe turned and unlocked the door, not making a move towards Bucky.

Bucky wrapped his arm around his torso and continued to watch Joe.

Turning back at last, Joe quietly said, “the master bath downstairs has a shower you may use. If I let you wash yourself while I clean the room, will you continue to cooperate?”

Nodding, Bucky slowly stood and warily headed towards the door.

“The kitchen is locked up, so you cannot reach the knives,” Joe called after him, turning to strip the bed. He wasn’t looking up.

“Okay,” Bucky answered softly.

“Then I’ll let you slowly explore the house while I strip this bed. You go to the bathroom and shower. I’ll wait on hand while you bathe, be careful not to slip. After you’re done, I’ll help you out while you finish drying and dressing. Then, you may explore some more or even watch some television while I wash the laundry and clean the room. I’ll get you lunch at that time, too.” Joe looked at Bucky. ”Remember, I am treating you with respect. Please don’t abuse that.”

Nodding, Bucky walked out of the bedroom. His legs felt wobbly from his most recent visit with Brock. He wondered if Fisk had been telling the truth when he offered a video chat with his family. He missed them all so much; he needed to see them.

Joe caught up shortly, carrying the foul-smelling bedding. He carried the bundle to the laundry area of the downstairs bathroom and shoved it all in the washer. Turning, he nodded. “Ready?”

Bucky nodded, “yes, please?” He wanted a shower; they always helped him feel human again.

Joe turned back to go tend Bucky’s room and laundry, giving him free run of the house as promised.

Bucky spent some time in the shower, cleaning himself thoroughly before stepping out and drying himself off before getting dressed in the clean clothes. After he was dressed, Bucky looked in the mirror, the swelling on his eye had gone down completely but it was now circled by a deep purple bruise. Sighing, he turned away and padded into the living room, sitting on the couch until Joe finished.

Joe finally walked into the living room and sank onto the opposite end of the couch, not bothering to look around or at the television or even at Bucky. He merely sighed.

“Wanna go home . . .” Bucky mumbled softly, chancing a glance at Joe.

Snorting, Joe looked at Bucky. “I won’t take you home until I’m told to. Until then, you cooperate and I treat you fairly.” He got up and gestured Bucky to follow, leading the man out to the back porch to sit in the sun for awhile, something he hadn’t been able to do since the boys were released.

“Thanks . . . I guess,” Bucky said softly, following him outside into the sun.

Snorting, Joe said, “no thanks. I ain’t doing it for you. It’s what I’m paid for.”

“Not sure I’m ever gettin’ out,” Bucky mumbled helplessly, slumping against the chair he sat in, thinking of how far Brock’s delusions had gone these last few days. It seemed like Brock was truly convinced they were a couple and would get Kevin back and be able to live as a happy family.

“Really? Huh,” Joe said. “No faith in your family to find you?” the man put his hands on his hips and seemed unaware that someone was sneaking across the yard towards them. A couple of other people were evident, one at the tree line and another just peeking around the side of the house.

Blinking, Bucky looked around, honestly thinking he may be seeing things.

Suddenly a shot rang out and Joe crumpled without a sound, falling and sliding down the steps onto the shell walkway.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he tried to get up, actually worried for the only captor that showed him any _true_ kindness.

Frank Castle stood up and held his hand up; his other hand, with the gun, pointed at the ground. “Bucky Rogers?” he called out. “Don’t get up, Buck!” He ran over and knelt to check on the unconscious Joe. Nodding, Castle stood and headed up the steps. “Gotta get you outta here, Bucky,” he said.

“F - - Frank?” Bucky asked, looking shocked and slightly unbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m here. He turned and signaled a man over who looked fairly much like Bucky, though up close they didn’t look quite so much alike. Frank turned back to Bucky. “We’re replacing you with an agent and gonna stake out the house so we can catch the rest of the scum that have been holding you here.”

“Y - - you’re here?” Bucky asked, voice breathless and scared, “you’re real, right? Th - - this isn’t a dream?”

“Yeah, Bucky. I’m real. And I’m gonna get you home to your family.” Frank touched Bucky’s shoulder. “Remember? I waited with you until your husband and friend came for you that night? And you sent the weirdest message the day you were late for breakfast? Triggered us to start looking.”

Bucky whimpered and then hugged himself, “I wanna go home . . .”

Leaning close, Frank whispered, “your husband still doesn’t have his license . . .”

Bucky looked confused.

Offering a smile, Frank asked, “you believe I’m Frank Castle now?”

Nodding, Bucky whimpered again.

“I’m gonna get you to the clinic. Your family’s still there.” He carefully helped up Bucky and walked him down the steps, past the untended Joe, no one bothering to treat him or arrest him, the body appearing totally lifeless.

“Y - - you killed him?” Bucky whimpered, looking at the man on the ground.

Frank looked down at Joe and sighed. “He was armed and holding you captive, Bucky.” He walked Bucky around the side of the house to an ambulance that sat there, having arrived in the commotion without being noticed, no lights or sirens going.

“H - - He was nice to me . . .” Bucky murmured brokenly.

Nodding, Frank said, “Stockholm Syndrome? Where you begin to identify with the bad guy.” He eased Bucky onto the stretcher bed in the vehicle then climbed up to join him. An EMT Bucky recognized from the clinic shut the doors and soon the ambulance took off and a paramedic began looking Bucky over.

The drive to the hospital was long and Bucky must’ve drifted off sometime during it, because the next time he was alert, he was being wheeled in through the doors of the clinic.

Frank smiled and stepped aside to speak to Sam as Steve came into view, reaching down to take Bucky’s hand, tears streaming down his face. “Bucky . . . my God, Bucky . . . you’re free! My love . . .”

For all the dreaming he’d done of being reunited with Steve and his family, Bucky seemed to freeze now that he saw Steve. What would Steve think of him once he found out that he’d _let_ Brock rape him over and over again over the last week. Several moments passed before Bucky breathed, “Steve.”

Steve stayed with the stretcher as it was wheeled directly into an emergency room. Doctor Banner began checking over Bucky, carefully turning him over to check his back and leaving Bucky on his front. He checked him everywhere, but in a more professional, less degrading way than Brock had. “What happened, Bucky? Can you remember?”

Bucky let out a whimper and shook his head, shame and disgust welling up inside of him. “I’m so . . . sorry,” he muttered.

Steve stroked his husband’s hair carefully. “You’re safe now, love. We’ll work through everything together. I promise.”

The dam finally broke and Bucky began to sob, burying his face into the pillow and body shaking. 

After a moment, a gentle, tiny hand began stroking Bucky’s cheek. “Papa, I’m here.” Kevin stroked Bucky’s hair gently.

Ava stood back, eyes wide and tears falling down her cheeks as her eyes took in the form of her uncle, the fading bruise on his temple and bruising around his eye. She looked frozen on the spot, unable to take a step forward. She’d never seen her uncle this upset before.

Steve put a hand behind her back and said, “he needs to see and hear you, princess, okay? Just say how much you love him.”

Nodding, Ava stepped forward and knelt next to the bed so her uncle could see her. She carefully brushed hair back, away from his face, and kissed his uninjured temple, “I love you, Uncle Bucky.”

Bucky looked at her, eyes red from crying, “I love you, too, Squirt.”

Kevin stood at his other side, stroking the back of his head since Bucky turned his head. He softly said again, “I’m here, too, Papa.”

Turning his head, Bucky gave Kevin a small smile, “hey, Tiger . . .”

“I’m glad you came back, Papa!” He smiled wide.

“Always,” Bucky said softly.

TJ stood a few feet back from the bed, eyes wide and his thin body trembled slightly. He felt horrible over the last week, feeling as if he’d abandoned Bucky when Steve had chosen him and Kevin. Now, Bucky was back . . . but he was bruised and crying . . . TJ didn’t know what to do or say.

Steve gently pushed TJ towards Bucky, murmuring, “wanna give Bucky a hug, TJ? He missed you and needs to know you still love him, baby.”

With a small whimper of his own, TJ finally made it to Bucky’s bedside and awkwardly hugged the other man, Bucky still being on his front. “Love you, Bucky,” TJ murmured softly.

“Love you, too, Teej,” Bucky said in return.

Bruce nodded and smiled as a sedative flowed into Bucky’s IV. “Time to rest, Bucky. I promise they’ll be here when you wake up.”

Steve leaned over and brushed his lips over Bucky’s. “Love you, Buck.”

“Lo . . . you . . .” Bucky slurred before his eyes drifted shut, his body completely relaxing.

**************

Bucky sat on the large bed in the room he and Steve shared at the clinic, long legs held close to his chest by his arm. He’d hardly talked with anyone since his rescue a few days prior. All he could think about was how he _let_ Brock use him, had actively participated in it so he would be spared injury. He wondered if Steve knew, if Bruce had told him, after all the doctor had done a complete exam and Bucky was pretty sure Bruce would be able to tell that he’d had sex recently. He could barely look at Steve, that sickening feeling of guilt and shame coiling his insides into painful knots.

Walking into the room, Steve offered Bucky a smile, once more relieved to see his husband safe and home, even if home was the clinic for the time being. He walked over and dropped a kiss to Bucky’s head. “Hey, love.”

“Hey,” Bucky replied softly, not looking at his husband. “How . . . how is everyone?”

“They’re okay, but would like to see you. Once you’re feeling more secure, baby.” Steve sat next to Bucky on the bed and moved to slide an arm around his husband.

Bucky flinched softly at the movement but didn’t move from Steve’s embrace. He dropped his head so it rested on his knees as he forced himself to take a few breaths. “I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling.

“Brock really messed you up, huh?” Steve asked, knowing what his ex-boyfriend was very capable of. He hugged Bucky to him. “You’ll be okay, baby. We’re together and I love you.” He reached over his other hand to stroke Bucky’s hair from his eyes.

“You won’t,” Bucky murmured on a breath, lifting miserable eyes to meet Steve’s.

“What do you mean, Buck?” Steve asked gently.

Shaking his head, a shudder running down his spine, Bucky hugged his legs tighter. “You won’t love me anymore . . . not after you hear . . .” Bucky whimpered.

Steve looked puzzled and asked, “why? What would change how I feel about you?” Steve kissed Bucky’s temple.

“I . . .” Bucky swallowed thickly and looked down, unable to meet Steve’s eyes, “I _let_ Brock . . . he . . .”

Nodding, Steve dropped his voice softer and asked, “you let Brock have his way, baby?”

Bucky closed his eyes, a few tears running down his cheeks, and he nodded once, “I . . . I could’ve done things to keep him from . . . but, I didn’t . . . one thing was putting some type of _ointment_ up there,” he shook his head again, “and it’d make me swell, if I was allergic. It coulda been bad. Then . . . Joe offered to hurt me bad enough that Brock would be forced to leave me alone. I,” Bucky flushed bright red and dropped his head again, mumbling into his knees, “I _chose_ to go along with whatever Brock wanted . . . and he . . . I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Nodding, keeping his arm where it was, leaning his head close to touch his temple against Bucky’s, Steve asked softly, “did you cum?”

A low whine broke past Bucky’s lips and he curled up even smaller, “he . . . he always made sure I did . . . sometimes . . .” his voice dropped into an embarrassed whisper, “sometimes more than once . . .”

Steve drew a deep sigh and nodded. “Yeah, me too. He’d have been a wonderful lover if he wasn’t a psychotic asshole, huh?”

“I’m . . . I’m dirty, Steve . . . no matter how hard I clean . . . I can’t . . . I _let_ him . . .” Bucky choked on a building sob and his body started to shake.

Steve hugged Bucky tight. “Bucky, I know why you don’t feel clean. It’s because you need someone who loves you more than anything to help you. Someone who understands that you didn’t love Brock or make love with him. You did what was needed to survive so you could come back home. That person, the one who can love and clean you, is me, Buck. Will you let me?”

“ _How_?” Bucky asked, lifting his head to reveal tear-washed eyes. “How can you . . . the things he did . . .” Bucky shook his head again.

Nodding, Steve stood and tugged Bucky to his feet. “Come on. Time you had a proper cleaning. No traces left of Brock, not even a chance of a trace left.” He tugged Bucky into the bathroom and began stripping his husband. “I’ll clean you inside and out and if you want to cum you can, but that’s not the purpose. The purpose is to get all traces of Brock from you.”

Bucky let Steve strip him of his clothing, revealing that the brunet had lost some weight over the last week. He ducked his head and wrapped his arm around his torso. He wanted so desperately to be clean again, to not feel Brock’s hands on him, feel Brock _in_ him. Bucky glanced back up at his husband, his eye still ringed with a deep purple bruise while the bruise on his temple had begun to fade to yellow.

Steve stripped himself, revealing that he was not erect, as this wasn’t meant to be a sexual encounter. He tested the shower water and led his lover into the stall. Picking up a sponge and soap, Steve began soaping the sponge. He started washing Bucky, beginning with his left arm stump and side. “Tell me what did he say about your arm, sweetheart?”

“Said I looked better without it,” Bucky answered, meeting his husband’s eyes.

With a smile for Bucky, Steve snorted, “so, he said something stupid? I shoulda known. You looked fine either way. But I think you’re healthier mentally without it.” Steve kissed the soapy shoulder then began washing over Bucky’s chest and abdomen. “Did he say anything about your lovely eyes, my love?”

“I . . . yes? Said . . . said I lured him in or something,” Bucky dropped his eyes to look at the soap that ran down the drain.

“Ah, his standard line, not even a new line,” Steve chuckled softly. “No imagination, huh?” Steve began washing Bucky’s back and shoulders.

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, still looking down at their feet. “I . . . I guess?”

Steve lifted Bucky’s chin and kissed his lips gently. He smiled, “tell me, Bucky, when you came for Brock, were you actually thinking of Brock or . . . of someone larger?”

Bucky’s eyes filled with tears again, though they didn’t spill over, “I . . . I had to think of you, Stevie . . . I didn’t _really_ want him to . . . I just . . . I didn’t want to get hurt bad or risk having a severe reaction . . .” The brunet flushed bright red again, swallowing thickly.

“So, you never came for Brock,” Steve said softly, washing Bucky’s ass carefully, avoiding his passage.

“But . . . I still,” Bucky’s voice could barely be heard over the running water, “I _begged_ for it, Steve . . .”

“You begged Brock to give you the least painful torture . . . my clever Bucky. I love you so much. I’m so glad you were smart enough to play Brock’s interest to keep yourself safe.” Steve knelt to wash Bucky’s legs.

Looking down at Steve, Bucky asked softly, “you . . . you aren’t disgusted with me? For . . . choosing that?”

“Bucky, remember? I’ve been his victim. Maybe if I’d been a bit more clever, I wouldn’t have been injured so badly, but I think he would have hurt me in the end anyway.” Steve stood and hugged Bucky, washing his right side and arm. “I’m not disgusted with you, I’m _proud_ of you. Every time you had to be tortured, you were able to get a less painful destructive one by pleasing him. That takes calm and smarts, Bucky. And allowed you to get to us in one piece and relatively healthy. You came back to _me_ , and that’s what matters.”

Wrapping his arm around Steve, Bucky clung to his husband desperately and buried his face in Steve’s damp neck. The brunet let out another sob, his fingers digging into Steve’s back, though not enough to break skin. “I . . . I love you . . . so much,” Bucky gasped between cries.

Steve wrapped his arms around his husband, tightly. “I love you with all my heart, Bucky.” He held his husband under the warm fall of water, enjoying the feel of Bucky back in his arms once more. After a very long time, he whispered, “want me to clean your penis and anus now, baby?”

“I . . .” Bucky pulled back slightly, looking slightly worried, “I’m not sure . . . I don’t know . . . if I’m . . .” the brunet stumbled over his words, trying to find the right way to explain. “I don’t think . . . I’m ready?”

“Okay, Buck. You let me know when you want me to clean you, okay?” Steve rinsed his husband off. “Once you’re ready. Remember, it’s a cleaning not sex. If you want sex, I’m right here for you, baby.” He cupped Bucky’s face and kissed him. “Take your time to get comfortable, okay?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “can . . . can we get dressed and . . . and just cuddle for right now? I - - I’ll visit with the kids later . . . I just need . . . I need you, Stevie.”

“Whatever you want and need, love.” Steve turned off the water and carefully began drying Bucky off, keeping things impersonal to keep Bucky relaxed. He led his husband into the bedroom and picked out a pair of silk pajamas, nothing like what would have been available during the imprisonment. Steve knelt down and held the pants ready for Bucky. “Here you go . . . unless you want something else to wear?”

“No, these are good,” Bucky nodded, stepping into the pants and letting Steve pull them up his long legs.

“Did you want underpants? I shoulda asked,” Steve looked up at his husband with a gentle smile.

“Right now I’m okay,” Bucky offered Steve a small smile.

Nodding, Steve stood and fastened the pants then slid the shirt on his husband, carefully snapping the sleeve up, since the pajamas had been specially altered for Bucky’s lost arm. Once Bucky had been dressed, Steve dried off and slipped into a pair of silk boxers then pants and shirt like Bucky’s. He held out his hand to Bucky. “Cuddle?”

Taking Steve’s hand, Bucky let Steve guide them back to the bed where they settled down. Bucky wrapped himself around his husband’s firm body and let out a small sigh, resting his head on Steve’s chest. “I’m home again, Steve . . .” Bucky whispered.

“Yes, you are, my love. Where you belong.” Steve hugged Bucky to him and smiled, letting the sounds of their hearts fill the silence of the room. “My beloved husband.”

**************

A couple of weeks passed with Bucky being cared for with utmost attention and beginning his therapy so he could move past what he’d been forced to endure. The police came and went getting information. The family had remained in the safety of the clinic, and even Kevin wasn't permitted to go to school. As an added precaution, the Bartons were asked to move in for awhile, since Fisk knew Steve worked out of their building.

Daniel, when the Barton clan moved in, showed up with young Julian. He said, “got a bad cut on his hand. Thought he could get care, but his Mom’s outta town.” Thus, even Julian was in the clinic, though he was being held while the state investigated his mother’s absence.

By the end of fourteen days, Bucky was doing therapy for his trauma. Steve had seemed to thrive being able to care for his husband. Kevin often roamed the clinic halls, meeting other kids, and hanging out with Julian, though he kept up with his lessons. TJ was responding well to his treatments, not having had a seizure in a few weeks, and preliminary scans showed that the tumor was no longer growing. The twelve year old was still weak and nauseous from his medicine, but he was able to follow Kevin around when the smaller boy would wander the halls. Both boys had their dogs with them at all times, and not just as service dogs any more. Ava was relieved that her uncle was back and continued to do her home studies as she got further along in her pregnancy.

With a smile, Steve walked into the living room of their suite. “Hey, Buck, visitors.”

Looking up at Steve, Bucky tilted his head, “who?”

With a smile, Steve stepped out of the way and Frank Castle walked in with a grin. He had someone else with him, the other man dressed in nondescript jeans and jacket with a cap pulled low.

Frank walked over and clapped Bucky carefully on the shoulder. “Looking so much better, Bucky!”

“Thanks, feel a lot better, too,” Bucky gave Frank a smile and then looked at the stranger, trying to see who it was.

Frank glanced over and chuckled. “Oh, sorry, this is my partner, but he’s been undercover for the last six months trying to gather evidence on Fisk. Now he’s being transferred to another state to keep him safe. He got quite a bit from that house you were held in.” Signaling to the other man, Frank said, “Can I introduce David Lieberman?”

The man walked over and took off his hat, revealing his face. He frowned a bit at Bucky. “Yeah, you’ll do,” he growled.

Bucky’s face broke into a grin, “Joe? Y - - you were shot!”

“Was, not now,” the man confirmed. “And Frank’s rubber bullet wasn’t gonna keep me down.”

“Y - - you were a cop? Th - - the whole time?” Bucky asked, eyes wide.

“Still am last I checked,” David nodded. “Was hired to check into the poisoning claims, followed the painting there and then I got tagged to go get you and the kids. I see their okay, too.” The undercover detective put his hat on but left it pushed back.

“You helped us . . . helped me,” Bucky said, standing up so he could hug the man who’d saved his life.

As if he could read Bucky’s mind, David walked over, giving Bucky a hug. “Glad I got directed there. You sure did need a guardian. By the way, they got Brock Rumlow again. I’ve got video and audio on him from the wire I wore. He can’t weasel out of that.”

Bucky hugged the man tightly, arm trembling slightly, “thank you . . .” the brunet breathed, knowing that without this man, his week in that hellhole would’ve been a lot worse . . . he might have not even made it a week, not without his medication.

“You’re welcome,” David said, smiling for the very first time, a pleasant, warm expression.

Letting go, Bucky looked up at both Frank and David. “What about Fisk? You can get him, right?”

“Got him on importation of non-regulated substances for now. Still trying to get him for other stuff. However, the good news is that David’s wire worked to get more than just evidence on Rumlow. Fisk often spoke to you directly in front of him, too.” Frank looked satisfied. “We’re putting together that case as we speak.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bucky nodded and sat back on the couch.

“But, I gotta tell ya, Bucky,” Frank said, smiling. “I’m not going to be working in Manhattan any more.”

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked, looking at the detective with wide eyes.

“I’m moving back to Queens, my home turf.” Frank looked very pleased.

“Oh, that’s good, Frank,” Bucky smiled.

David leaned forward. “Wanna introduce me to your family, or do I embarrass you?”

Flushing, Bucky gave the man a smile and then gestured to Steve, “this is my husband, Steve Rogers . . . Steve this is - - well, Not-Joe,” the lean brunet’s lips quirked in a smirk; he’d already told Steve about the one guard to care about him, how everyone had chalked it up to Stockholm Syndrome.

Steve laughed and held out his hand to shake the detective’s. “Great to meet you, Not-Joe. Bucky’s been mourning your death. I’m glad it was misreported.”

Nodding, David smiled. “So am I.”

After calling in the kids in, Bucky introduced them, “you already met my sons, Kevin and TJ, and this is my niece, Ava.”

Kevin grinned. “You’re the nice guard who took care of Avenger and Malakai.”

David nodded. “Well, they’re special dogs. Hello, Ava,” he held out his hand, his smile gentle. “I’m so sorry for the way you got that package.”

Ava frowned, shaking the man’s hand quickly before dropping it, “why didn’t you get him out sooner, if you’re a cop why’d you let him keep getting hurt?” she asked crossing her arms.

“I needed as much evidence as I could so we could lock them away. But when I could,” David looked at Bucky, “I called my partner to extract him.”

The teen didn’t look convinced; ever since her uncle had been rescued, she’d been very protective of him, “and you couldn’t get him out sooner? Call your partner? He was there for a week!”

“I actually needed to get evidence that Fisk and Brock both were complicit in holding him prisoner, Ava. I was able to take care of him if he got hurt and to give him food. But I had my orders from the police chief, too.” David frowned softly, eyes full of regret. Looking back at Bucky, he said, “at least we got the evidence we needed. I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”

Bucky nodded, “it’s okay. I’m glad you’re gonna be able to put Brock and Fisk away for good. They won’t be able to hurt anyone else.”

Nodding, the man sighed and rubbed at his head, picking up his ball cap with two fingers in the process. Sliding the cap on again, David said, “glad we managed to get the boys outta there so quick. They were thinking on making Steve choose among all three of you when I was able to tell them how much work it was to keep two sick kids or a sick kid and sick adult.”

Bucky let out a sigh and shook his head. He looked up at Steve with a frown, glad that his husband hadn’t been forced to choose between the boys.

Ava, seeing the genuine concern radiating from David, came forward and wrapped her arms around the detective, “thank you. Thank you for saving my uncle.”

**************

Five Months Later (January):

Pretty notes filled the main living room where the family was, relaxing, enjoying time together. The Rogers family were back in their beloved home after months at the Maria Stark Clinic. Fisk, Brock, and any other men who'd been responsible for keeping Bucky prisoner had been apprehended, denied bail, and were awaiting trial.

Bucky's therapy had gone well, and though he still had a long road ahead of him, recovery didn't seem impossible. Not with Steve and the kids there every step of the way. And TJ was beginning to trust his new family wanted and loved him . . . and wouldn’t be snatched away in the blink of an eye. His therapy included not allowing Kevin to become a surrogate for Doug but encouraging a close bond nonetheless.

Ava padded into the room, hand over her swollen belly, and carefully sat down on the couch with an exasperated huff. “When they tell you that you'll have to pee a lot . . . they mean it,” she tossed a smile at Steve. After many long talks with her family, mother, and Daniel, she had decided to keep the baby. She and Daniel would raise the baby with the help of their families.

Daniel smiled and carefully took her hand, the one over her belly. He leaned in close to kiss his pregnant girlfriend. “Just think, once the baby’s born, you have something to hold over it’s head forever.”

Steve nodded, wrapping an arm around Bucky, “and other things can be held against the kid. My Momma used to say, “you were a parasite for nine months, least you can do is take out the trash!”

Looking from Steve to Daniel, Ava laughed softly.

“Good luck on that one,” Bucky smiled, leaning his head on Steve’s broad shoulder, “been struggling with that for _years_.”

Ava stuck her tongue out at her uncle, relaxed and playful.

Kevin, resting on the carpet while he colored a hand-drawn picture, looked up. “I’ll take out the trash, Papa!”

Laughing, Bucky said, “thank you, Tiger. Right now, I think it’s good.”

“TJ?” Kevin rolled onto his back and grinned to the other boy, “can you play that song again from last night? The one Dougie liked so much?”

Smiling, TJ nodded and began to play a happy tune, one his deceased twin, Doug, would request over and over again.

Steve glanced at Bucky then over at TJ behind the piano. Softly, so his voice was drowned by the piano, Steve asked his husband, “have you talked to TJ yet about adoption, babe?”

Sighing, Bucky shook his head, looking at the twelve year old and then back at Steve, “I don’t know how to approach that? I know I need to talk with him . . . but, he’s been doing so good, ya know? ”

Nodding, Steve lifted his voice, keeping an eye on TJ to judge his reactions. “TJ? Baby, can you come here a moment? We want to discuss your security.”

Fingers stopping the bubbly tune immediately, the thin brunet frowned softly and nodded as he slipped from behind the piano and made his way over to the adults. “Uh . . . did I do something wrong?” TJ’s fingers tapped his thighs, an anxious habit.

“Not at all, TJ,” Steve smiled and patted the couch next to him. “Come sit so we can talk.”

TJ obeyed and sat down next to the blond, fingers tangling together as he looked at Steve and Bucky with curious, still slightly worried eyes. “Yeah?” He asked softly.

“You know, baby, that some people might try to argue with our fostering you, even though you’re cousins with Bucky, right?” Steve asked, straightforward.

“Uh . . . yeah?” TJ chewed at his bottom lip.

“And that Becca is Ava’s natural mother, but Bucky and I adopted Ava so she can’t be taken away by anyone? And that Bucky adopted Kevin so _he_ can’t be taken, right?” Steve took TJ’s hands and soothed his larger fingers over the delicate musician’s hands.

“Can . . . can I be taken?” TJ asked, eyes widening at the thought that he might be whisked away from the family he’d grown to love and trust after losing his biological family.

“It’d have to go through court, TJ, but it is a _slim_ possibility,” Steve emphasised the slight chance, not wanting TJ to be scared into making this decision. “What we were wondering is, will you let Bucky and I adopt you? You can keep the last name Hammond or make it a double name like Ava does, being Procter-Rogers. You could be Hammond-Rogers if you wanted.”

TJ swallowed thickly and his pale eyes flickered to look at Kevin and then back to Steve.

Kevin sat up and said, quite happily, “what Dad means, TJ, is that you can call them uncle or cousin or even Papa and Dad if you _want to_ , but that’s up to you. They want to adopt you so you get to stay here and the court can’t give you to someone else, like maybe your uncle on your Daddy’s side?”

Shaking his head, TJ said on a low whisper, “I . . . I don’t wanna call them Dad. They . . .” the thin brunet lifted apologetic eyes to Bucky and Steve.

Steve met the eyes and chuckled, easily, “because you loved your own Daddy very much. We understand that, TJ, baby. Do you still want to call me Steve even if you let us adopt you? I don’t mind. It’s what Ava calls me.”

Bucky looked around Steve to offer TJ a gentle, reassuring smile, “And you can still call me Bucky.”

Lifting TJ’s chin in one strong, gentle hand, Steve added, “we aren’t trying to replace your family, TJ, but to give you a second one to love and know will protect and support you, like your first family would want.”

TJ was quiet for several moments before he took and released a deep breath before slowly nodding. “I . . . okay? You can adopt me.”

Steve hugged TJ, “thanks, Cousin TJ.” He deliberately stated their current relationship so TJ knew that Steve mant it when he said things wouldn’t need to change.

“Thank you,” TJ said, looking at Steve and then Bucky, “for everything . . .”

“We love you, TJ, and want you safe and happy. I wish I could bring back your family, truly. But hopefully, we’ll make a good second choice.” Steve hugged the boy again. “And now I get the right to spoil you rotten by putting money away for college for you.”

“College is a long ways away,” TJ smiled softly, a slight teasing to his tone.

Steve laughed, “and takes a lot of money, so I have years to get money saved up so you can go to any college you choose!” Steve looked over to Bucky. “Wanna give your Cousin Bucky a hug, too? It was his idea.”

TJ nodded and pulled out of Steve’s arms to move over to the other side to hug Bucky. Bucky held the boy close in a tight, one-armed hug. “We love you, TJ,” Bucky said, placing a gentle kiss to the boy’s hair.

“We all love you,” Kevin called happily. “Welcome to our crazy family, Cousin TJ.”


End file.
